








^/''>v'^1^ 









sychological 
,utobkx;rapheries] 

JAMES M FLAGG 



4 .*C«'^^ '.i^? 








Book: L ij^ ft . 
Copiglit}^?- 



CSEQUCHT DEPOSm 



•.7 



n 




STYLUS EDITION 



VOLUME SEVEN 



PSYCHOLOGICAL 

AUTOBIOGRAPHERIES 

hy 

James M tlagg 

dedicated To My Faithful 
wife 

A.N.NA KATHEmME 




«^ «4i «^ *^ ^' «^ e.-^ ^ ^ '-^^ ^ «4*' «^ •J* 




PU3LISHED BY THE LITERATI, NEW YORK 

II.LUSTRATED 



COPVNIQMT 1910 






/ 



SEP 20 1916 
©CI.A437806 









The cruise of the Snark 1 

Innes Clarque ... 30 

The Genius ... 40 

The case of James Gaffeen 46 

The Literary Giant 52 

Meteoric Geniuses . . 59 

The Mundi^ ... 64 

The Mental Wreck . . 74 

Murgeon ... 80 

Lodbrogg the Half. Wit. 95 

Telcani ... 103 

Jazz Merazz ... 117 

Bloody Fingers ... 123 

Introdudtion to poems . . 125 

The Coquette ... 126 

Man and Bea^ ... 128 

The Poet and the Sparrow 129 

Melancholy ... 130 

Aeons ago ... 131 

The Literary Goat . . 132 



contents 



The Storm . . . 


133 


The Cameri^ . . . 


134 


The Scribe . . 


135 


To Anna 


136 


Jure divino , . 


137 


Eternity of Dreams , 


138 


A Thorough Bohemian . 


139 


So Drooped the Girl 


141 


The Hell Ship . . . 


145 


Sacramental ... 


149 


Politician 


150 


The Death of Leonora . 


151 


King Death . . . 


153 


Immortality . . . 


154 


Monogamy . . . 


156 


The Last Look . 


158 


The Sky Pilot . . . 


161 


Eternal Solitude . 


162 


Serenade . . . 


168 


A Heart to Let . . . 


169 


Satan and the Poet . . 


171 


Lay her There . . . 


173 



FOREWORD 

Among the elements which go to 
the making of the true work of art, the 
daemonic holds fir^ place. It is the 
essential and peculiar quality of genius 
— the quality which lies beyond the 
reach of the mo^ exadting and intelli- 
gent work, as it lies beyond the search 
of analysis. Any man may learn the 
secrets of form; he may become an 
adept in the skill of his craft; but 
the final felicity of touch, the ultimate 
grace of effortless power, elude and 
baffle him. The writings of Flagg 
flow with the natural distincftive and 
deliberate grace of real literature, 
and that he is an arti^ of unparalled 
qualification cannot be denied. 

(Publisher. 




^etancbol^' t^& vampire hat» 
Cons uf on mi^ bosom sat 
'^nb I woul6 rave but tl)at ^e flln^^ 
TA sweet nefeivt^e off l)ls wln()s 




AUTHORS NOTE 

The effusions of my pen, will, no 
doubt, throw those of a critical turn, 
into a fit of rage and fury ; therefore, 
let it be understood from the outset, 
that 1 am simply setting forth idiosyn- 
cratic psychological autobiographies, 
and, as 1 am not composing a novel, 1 
do not deem it necessary to have any 
recourse to the customary devices of 
the literary person. 

Above all things, the study of the 
weird and fantastic has given me 
great delight; still, my habits of rigid 
thought enables me to detedl their 
every falsity, and, if the reader's mind 
is not too feeble, he may find some- 
thing herein to please his soul (if 
soul he has) Too, as far as catering 
to the commonplace, — - the common- 
place is a deadletter, and a nullity. 



^uMoi. 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

Man doth not yikld himself to the angels, 
nor unto death utterly, save only through 
the weakness of his feeble will. 

Of my morals or of my principles 
I have little to say. Free-thinking and 
social conditions have cured me of the 
one, and tore me from the other. It 
was, if I am not mistaken, man*s in- 
humanity to man, that has convinced 
me of the cool logic that lies in the 
philosophy of "the survival of the 
fitted." 

After many years spent in foreign 
travel, 1 sailed in the year 1 907 April 
twenty third from the port of Frisco, 
on a voyage that was to extend a- 
round the world. I went as passenger 
— having no other inducement than 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

a kind of nervous re^lessness which, 
haunted me as a fiend. Our vessel, 
however, was but a forty-five foot af- 
fair, copper fa^ened, and built at 
Sausilitoof the fine^ teak. She was 
bent on a trip of adventure, comman- 
deered by Jaque London, who was its 
owner and a sociali^ic writer of great 
renown. 

There were but seven souls aboard 
the Snark including myself; Mrs 
Charmeois London was the only lady 
with the party, she was of thorough 
american Aock and possessed a mind 
of the very higher order. We were 
all passengers, and were at the same 
time the crew. We got under way 
in the early morning, and amid the 
cheers of thousands of doubting and 
curious spectators. For many days we 
rode the high seas of the great Pacific, 
without even the passing of another 



The Cruise of The Shark 

vessel to beguile the monotony of our 
course. One evening, leaning over 
the taff-rail, I observed a very singular, 
isolated cloud, to the north we^ ; it 
was remarkable, as well for its color, 
as from its being the fira we had seen 
lince our departure from Frisco. 

I watched it attentively until sunset, 
when it spread all at once into a long 
line across the heavens. My att- 
ention was soon afterward attraded 
by the dusky red appearance of the 
moon, and the peculiar charadler of 
the sea. 

The latter was under going a rapid 
change, and the water seemed more 
than usually difturbed. The air now 
became intolerably hot, and was of a 
very suffocating nature ; as night came 
on, every breath of wind died away 



The Cruise Of The Snark 

and all became calm beyond belief. 
However, London, who had spent 
the greater part of his life upon the 
sea, assured us that he could perceive 
no indication of danger, and upon 
this night he set no watch. 

I went below — but with a full 
presentiment of evil; indeed, every 
appearance warranted me in appre- 
hending a typhoon. I spoke of my 
fears to London; but he paid little or 
no attention to my suspicions, and 
walked away with a glint in his eye 
of utter sarcasm ; he was a man who 
knew no fear, and any uneasiness on 
the part of anyone nauseated him to 
the very deeped degree. 

However, 1 found it impossible to 
sleep, and about midnight I went up- 
on deck. And on placing my foot 



THE CRUISE or THE SNARK 

upon the upper ilep of the compan- 
ion-ladder, 1 was ^artled by a loud, 
humming noise of a mo^ peculiar 
nature, and 1 was only a moment in 
determining it for what it was — a 
gigantic hurricane. 

In the next instant, a wilderness 
of foam hurled us upon our beam -ends, 
and, rushing over us fore and aft, 
iwept the entire decks from ^em to 
Item. 

The extreme fury of the bla^ proved 
in a great measure, to be the sal- 
vation of the ship ; altho' completely 
water-logged, yet, as her ma^s had 
gone by the board, she rose, after 
a minute, heavily from the sea, and 
staggering awhile beneath the immense 
pressure of the tempeft, finally righted. 
By what miracle I escaped deArudtion 



The Cruise Of The Snark 

it is impossible to say. Stunned by 
the shock of the water, I found my- 
self, upon recovery, jammed in be- 
tween the ^ern-po^ and rudder. 

With great difficulty I managed 
to gain my feet, and looking dizzily 
around, was, at firit, ^ruck with the 
idea of our being among breakers ; 
so terrific, even beyond the wilder 
imagination, was the whirlpool of 
foaming waters within which we were 
engulfed. 

After a while, 1 heard the voice 
of London, 1 hallooed to him with 
all my ^rength, and presently he 
came reeling aft. We learned at 
once that three souls were all that 
had survived the catastrophe ; — - 
London, Martini, and myself. The 
entire remainder of the party, had, from 



6 



THE CRUISE Of The Snark 

all appearance, been swept into the 
sea. Without assi^ance we could 
expect to do little for the security of 
the ship, and our exertions were at 
fir^ paralized by the momentary ex- 
pedation of going down. 

Our cable had, of course, parted 
like so much thread, at the very fir^ 
breath of the ^orm ; while the engine, 
such as it was, had never been in the 
running. 

We scudded with frightful velocity 
before the sea, and the heavy waves 
beat again^ our sides in a series of 
horrifying thuds ; the frame work of our 
^ern was shattered excessively, and, 
in almo^ every respedt, we had re- 
ceived considerable injury ; but to our 
extreme joy we found the pumps un- 
choked, and that we had made no 



Iw- 



The Cruise of The Snark 

great shifting of our Ballad. The 
main fury of the bla^ had already 
blown over, and we apprehended 
little danger from the violence of the 
wind ; but we looked forward to its 
total cessation with dismay ; well be- 
lieving, that, in our shattere d condition 
we should inevitably perish in the 
tremendous swell which would ensue. 

Yet, by some Grange idiosycrasy 
of fate, we were spared ; but were 
tossed unmercifully about the face of 
the deep for many days and nights -— 
during which our only subsistence 
was a small quaniiy of jaggeree, pro- 
cured with great difficulty from the 
forecastle -- - we tottered about the sea 
in a mo^ miserable manner, and well 
conscious that we were in a seldom 
traveled part of the globe. Again 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

we were victims of a heavy bla^, 
and it seemed as tho' the tempest had 
descended upon us with redoubled 
fury. 

Late in the afternoon it was utterly 
impossible to stand up against the 
violence of the storm ; and as the 
shades of night closed upon us, I had 
not a shadow of hope that the ves- 
sel would hold together until morning. 

By midnight we had settled very 
deep into the water, which was now 
up to the orlop deck. The rudder 
went soon afterward, the sea which 
tore it away lifting the after portion of 
the brig entirely from the water, a- 
gainst which she thumped in her de- 
scent with such a concussion as would 
be occasioned by going ashore. We 
had calculated that the rudder would 



The cruise Of The Snark 

hold its own to the last as it was un- 
usually strong, being cast in a solid 
piece, of the very firmest metal. 

We had scarcely time to draw 
breath after the violence of this shock 
when one of the most tremendous 
waves 1 had then ever known, broke 
diredtly on board of us, sweeping 
the companion-way clear off, burning 
in the hatchways, and filling every 
discernible quarter with water. 

Luckily, ju^ before midnight, all 
three of us had securely lashed our- 
selves to the remaining fragments of 
the windlass, lying as flat upon the 
deck as possible ; and it was this 
precaution alone that saved us from 
deilrudtion. As it was we were 
all more or less flunned by the im- 
mense weight of water which tumbled 



10 



THE CRUISE Of The Snark 

upon us, and which die! not roll from 
above us until we were nearly ex- 
hausted. As soon as I could recover 
breath, I called aloud to my com- 
panions. London alone replied, say- 
ing. "It appears to be all over with 
us, but let us ^rive to la^ as long 
as possible, then — may God have 
mercy on our souls." 

We glanced at each other as though 
it was for the la^ time, then quietly 
submitted ourselves to Fate's further 
lashings. The night was as dark as it 
possibly could be, and the horrible 
shrieking din and confusion which 
surrounded us it is useless to attempt 
describing. 

Our deck lay level with the sea or 
rather we were encircled with a to- 
wering ridge of foam, a portion of 



u 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

which swept over us every infant, 
Ahho* we lay close together, no one 
of us could see the other, or indeed, 
any portion of the brig itself, upon 
which we were so tempestuously hurl'd 
about. 

At intervals we called one to the 
other, thus endeavouring to keep alive 
hope, and render consolation and en- 
couragement to such of us as ^ood mo^ 
in need of it. 

The feeble condition of Martini 
made him an object of solicitude with 
London and 1, and we were in mom- 
entary expectation in finding that he 
had gone overboard — - yet, to render 
him aid was a thing altogether out of 
the question. Our situation was a 
(rightful one, and after a long, long 
period the day broke, but only to make 



vz 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

visible the horrors which surrounded 
ys. The Snark was a mere log, roll- 
ing about at the mercy of every wave ; 
but the gale was fa^ly decreasing, 
and in a short time the sea was a 
perfedl calm. 

Never before did I appreciate the 
blessed sunshine as now; and after 
some rather difficult reckoning, I man- 
aged to determine that we had been 
to sea juit twenty seven days; 
after being out nineteen days we had 
crossed into the torrid zone ; we had 
bee n at the mercy of the ^orm for 
eight days, and as we had left the 
Bay of Frisco April twenty third, it 
was now, no doubt, the twentieth of 

13 



The Cruise of The Snark 

May. The entire body of water 
ea^ of us was bathed in sunshine, 
while a mountain of fog hung op- 
pressively low in the we^ ; but it 
too, was disappearing very rapidly. 

We suffered mo^ly now from the 
terrible pangs of hunger. When- 
ever we looked forwdrd to means of 
relief that would satisfy our thir^ and 
hunger, our hearts sunk within us, 
and we were induced to regret that 
we had escaped the perils of the sea 
only to fall to a more tenible fate. 

We endeavoured, however, to con- 
sole ourselves with the hope of being 
speedily picked up by some vessel^ 
and encouraged each other to bear 



U 



The Cruise Of The Snark 

with fortitude the evils that might 
happen. London and Martini were 
Hretched out upon their backs from 
utter fatigue, while 1 sat wearily watch- 
ing the fog that was sliding swiftly 
away in the we^. 

The lifting of the fog was the lift- 
ing of my sorrow, and I shall never 
forget the ecstatic joy which thrilled 
through every particle of my frame 
when I perceived a large brig bear- 
ing down upon us, and not quite a 
mile away. 

I was to my feet in an infant ; 
and, ^retching out my arms in the 
diredtion of the vessel stood in this 
manner, motionless, and unable to 



15 



The Cruise Of The Snark 

articulate a syllable. My two comp- 
anions were equally effecfted, only in 
different ways. Martini danced about 
the deck like a madman, uttering the 
moit extravagant rhodomontades, inter- 
mingled with howls and imprecations ; 
while London bowed his head, open- 
ing and closing his hands like one about 
to receive the sentence of death. 

The vessel in sight was a large 
antique affair of an old English build 
painted black, with a tawdry gilt 
figure-head. 

She had evidently seen a great 
deal of rough weather, and, we sup- 
posed, had suffered much in the gale 
that had been so disastrous to our- 
selves ; for her fortopmail was gone, 



16 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

and some of her larboard bulwarks. 

When we fir^ saw her, she was 
as I have already said, less than a 
mile away to windward, bearing down 
upon us. 

The breeze was very gentle, and 
what aflonished us chisfly was» 
that she had no other sails set than 
her foresail and mainsail, with a 
flying jib — of course she came down 
but slowly, and our impatience a- 
mounted almo^ to phrenzy. 

The awkward manner in which 
she Peered, too, was remarked by the 
three of us, even excited as we were* 
She yawed about so much that once 
or twice we thought it impossible she 



17 



\ 



The Cruise Of The Snark 

could see us, and discovering no person 

onboard, she was about to tack and 
make off in another diredion. 

Upon each of these occasions we 
screamed and shouted at the top of 
our voices, when the Granger would 
appear to change for a moment her 
intention, and again would hold on 
toward us — this singular condudl 
being repeated two or three times, 
so at la^ we derived at the conclusion 
that the helmsman was intoxicated. 

We could discern no one upon 
her deck at no time; ^ill, she neared 
and now more steadily than before. 
She soon slid along-side and with 
unrestrained enthusiasm we leaped 



IS 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

aboard, and had litde or no trouble in 

this feat as she was a low built wind- 
jammer of Malabar teak. 

Shall I ever forget the triple horror 
that confronted us ? There were 
thirteen human bodies, among whom 
were several females, lay scattered 
about the deck in miserable attitudes 
and we plaiiiiy saw that not a soul 
lived on that fated vessel ! Yet we 
could not l^eip turning to them for 
did / 

At all ha^ard^ our lives were spared 
and we at once busied ourselves in 
ramsacking about for food and drink 
but there v^raA nothing of this nature 
to be found. 



49 



The Cruise of The Snark 

And we discovered, to our great 
surprise, that the ship had been in 
this deplorable condition for at lea^ 
a hundred y^ears ! 

To our deep sorrow we learned 
this, and it was both by the ship's log 
and other authentic records that im- 
pressed this fad upon us. 

It seemed that about a century ago. 
It was the Brittish convidl ship — 
Melborne;* which plied between 
England proper and her south-sea 
possessions. 

A much aged note, clutched in 
the hand of what had been the la^ 
survivor, read as follows : 

Oct. 8 I 797 



V 1 

This ship was at San a-'.^ancisco Exposition Fes, 
^1916. UNDER ONE CAPTAIN SMYTHE. ED. 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

All on board are dead and I 
am dying, we are all prisoners save 
the five locked in the torture cell up 
in the Peerage, who are officers and 
vidims of this miserable mutiny ;we 
have become lo^ in an unknown part 
of the Antartic circle. We have 
now been frozen up for a hundred 
and forty days and are Carving. 

Robert Casement, 

Starving ! We ^ared about us 
helplessly, and daggering weakly to 
the companionway went below; the 
atmosphere was of iciness itself, and 
judging from the great ice cakes we 
found in the hold, what-with the ext- 
raordinary preservation of the dead, 
we were positive that the old brig 



2\ 



The Cruise Of The Snark 

had but lately become freed from the 
grip of the frigid Antartic ; the ice 
had not yet melted, and furnished 
us with abundance of drinking water, 
and this blessing was so great, that 
we could not help weeping for joy. 

We drank heavily of the cool 
luscious water, and clambared back 
onto the deck, where we at once 

lay ourselves down into a deep and 
re^ful sleep. 

When I awoke some time later 
1 found that my companions were ^ill 
reding in peaceful slumber ; finding 
myself alone, so to speak, my reflecfl- 
ions of course, were of a fearful and 
mo^ gloomy nature. No prospecfl 



22 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

offered itself to my view but a ling- 
ering death by famine, and the gnaw- 
ing of hunger which 1 now experienced 
was nearly insuportable, and I felt 
myself capable of going to any lengths 
in order to appease it. 

With my knife I cut away the up- 
per of my shoes, and endeavored to 
eat them, but found it utterly impos- 
sible to swallow a soHtary morsel, but 
1 found some little satisfaction in 
chewing the leather and then spitting 
it out. 

On comparing the dead with the 
book of consignment , which 1 found 
in the pocket of the deceased captain 
it was but an easy matter to identify 



?3 



The cruise of the Shark 

all that were aboard. One of the 
prisoners proved to be a rather in- 
tere^ing personage; from all indications 
his name appeared to be Bernart Shaw 
and it seemed that he was sent over 
for life, charged with conducing a rad- 
ical journal through wich he was found 
guilty of high treason. 

His was a Satonic appearance, and 
across his lap lay a bread -board into 
which he had carved a mo^ peculiar 
verse, as appears ; 

Hurrah I hurrah, for the foaming flood 

Of the fiery Phlegethon, 

A demon bride, 

And devilish bridegroom side by side 



24 



The Cruise Of The Shark 

Are sailing this vessel upon ; 

He is an imp of the very beit blood 

And she is a devil of Ton. 

This brig is the shattered fragments of 

A loit ship long ago 

In a fanthomless bay 

For a cycle of years it rotting lay 

So the devil's employed it now. 

The braggadocio manner of the 
man instilled me with renewed cour- 
age and 1 resolved to live at any 
co^. When my companions awoke 
we busied ourselves in casing all 
the ancient ^iffs into the sea; one 
gha^ly old hag of an amazon, was 
the uglie^ mortal I had ever beheld. 



25 



THE Cruise Of The Shark 

her name, according to the ship*$ 
register, was Amy Parkhurst; she was 
charged with murder-thru-birth-con- 
trol, and with circulating vicious Ut- 
erature. 

We heaved her repulsive carcass 
into the sea at once; and it was but 
a few moments until we had ridden 
all decks of the dead. Elxcept of- 
course, the live that had perished 
up in the steerage. 

With an ax we chopped our way 
into the small, barbarous compartment, 
the walls and ceilings ^ill hung with 
hoAs of icicles, and the corpses, though 
lifeless a hundred years, were in a 
wonderful ^ate of preservation. 



t^ 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

London turned suddenly toward me 
with an expression that sent a shudder 
through my frame ; there was about 
him an air of self possession which 
I had not noticed in him untill now, 
and before he opened his lips my 
heart told me what he would say. 

He proposed, in a few words, that 
the men lying in death should serve 
us as su^enance. My mind rapidly 
ran over a thousand absurd projeds 
by which to avoid becoming a partner 
in the awful speculation. 

I thought of falling on my knees to 
my companions, and entreating them 
to entertain other views; or of sud- 
denly rushing to the ship's side and 



THE Cruise GF; THE snark 

plunging intq the sea ; to my mind 
there w^s nothing more horribly, than 
cannibalism, but 1 was soon brought 
to my, senses by the voice of Martini, 
who assured me that they both felt 
no doubt, as I myself, but something 
had to be done. 

We then determined to carry out 
our frightful undertaking with as lea^ 
concern as we could possibly assume; 
though we found ways of cooking the 
meat well, I will not dwell upon the 
fearful repast which immediately en- 
sued. 

Such things may be imagined, but 
words- have no power to impress the 
mind with the exquisite horror of their 



U 



THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK 

reality. Let suffice that we lived 
heartily upon this ungodly diet for 
twenty seven days ; the expiration of 
which time we landed in the Port of 
San Francisco. 




INNES C^ARQUS 

It may not occur to you that I am 
a dead man ; am, and have been 
for many years, Ofcourse, at the time 
of this writing I was quite alive ; but 
why Unger over the vaporous detail of 
a hazy past ; by this time, no doubt, 
my body will have returned to its 
original ashes, while my soul may, at 
this very moment, be standing at your 
side. Perhaps you would be pleased 
to know that this paper was indited in 
& dank and mu% tomb, that crumbles 



30 



INNES CLARQUE 

on the Hill of Sere, and lies in the 
center of the cemetery Pere la Chase. 

On the entry of the opposing forces 
into Paris, a beautiful young lady ar- 
rived at the Hotel Delorme, she was 
without any attendant —could scarcely 
speak a word of French, and appeared 
to be suffering with a severe attack of 
mental agitatioa. 

From her singular appearance and 
being alone, some delicacy was felt 
in receiving her. It was later learned 
that she was in Paris in an effort to lo- 
cate her betrothed, who was a young 
officer of some renoun; but from whom 
she received no tidings since the be - 
gining of the war. 



31 



INNES CLARQUE 

The young officer in que^ion wai 
aon other than myself, but while the 
(air Innes Clarque (for such was her 
name) was in search of me in Paris 
1, unfortunately, was stationed on the 
frontier to the ea^. 

It seemed that my lovely Innes had 
fallen in with an elderly lady, who 
likened with kindness to her ^ory and 
promised her every assi^ance within 
her power; and the two of them 
concentrated every possible effort to 
gather in whatever clue there was, 
that had any bearing upon myself. 

All this I learned later from a young 
soldier of the 1 2lh. Hussars. 

And it was on a beautiful morning 
in May that the two ladies sallied forth 



32 



INNES CLARQUE 

into the great high-ways and by-ways 
of Paris. Those who have never be- 
held a metropolis in the hands of a 
triumphant enemy, can conjedure 
nothing so sinularly exciting and 
piduresque. Never was the ^rength 
and brilliancy of war more goreously 
displayed, than when the Parisian 
capital was in the hands of the teutons. 

Warriors of every nation wers as- 
sembled there, the bold and ferocious 
cossack, the hardy and blu^ering 
American, the warlike Austrian, the 
artistic Italian, and the crass double- 
fi^ed German, in fad, subjeds of all 
nations were promiscuously scattered 
throughout the city ; while the captors 
gaurded with lynx-eyed vigilance, le^ 



33 



INNES CLARQUE 

the ever ^ratgetic French might dis- 
avow their abdication, and by some 
sudden ruse, again bid defiance to 
their conquerors. 

The two females passed through 
crowds of men of every type and des- 
cription, when suddenly the young 

lady caught sight of one of my old 
comrads and demanded of him what 

ever information he may possess, the 

villian had followed my diredlion to 

the letter, and told the fair creature 

that I had perished in the battle of 

Saint Jean. This He, I figured, would 

save me from being forced by the law 

into marriage. On hearing this a wild 

piercing laugh buril from her bosom, 

and she turned and fled ; — - fled from 



34 



INNES CLARQUE 

them never to return. It was but three 
days later to this occurence that I re- 
turned from the front, and by some 
peculiar freak of chance I met the 
young soldier of the 1 2th. almo^ im- 
mediately. 

He informed me in a very few words 
of the terrible condition of my beloved 
Innes. My conscience smote me for 
1 knew she was,-— or soon would be 
a mother, 1 resolved to be a man 
upon the spot, and at once set out 
in search for the one 1 had so sinfully 
wronged. 

It was late in the afternoon that 1 
finally located her at the H otel Fabor 
I was too late, for she had passed away, 



35 



INNES CLARQUE 

and I shall never forget the sorrow, 
that at that moment, took complete 
possession of my soul. Reludlantly, 
and with a heart of lead 1 approached 
the bed-chamber of the departed; the 
room was large, and very dark, and 
at every ^ep within its gloomy pre- 
cindls 1 encountered the paraphernalia 
of the grave. 

The coffin, so a menial told me, 
lay surrounded by the purple curtains 
ju^ before my eyes, and in that coffin, 
he whisperingly assured me, was all 
that remained of my blessed Innes. 

Who was it that asked if I desired 
to view the corpse ? I had seen the 
lips of no one move, yet the ques- 
tion had been demanded, and the 



36 



INNES Cl-AROUE 

syllables ^ill lingered in the room* 
It was impossible to refuse, and with 
a sense of suffocation I dragged my- 
self to the side of the bed. 

Gently 1 uplifted the sable draperies 
of the curtains; as 1 let them fall they 
descended upon my shoulders, and 
shutting me thus out from the living, 
enclosed me in the todleil communion 

4 

with the dead. 

The very atmosphere was redolent 
of death; the peculiar smell of the coffin 
sickened me, and I fancied that a de- 
leterious odor was exhaling from the 
body. 1 would have given worlds 
to escape --- to fly from the pernicious 
influence of mortality, and breathe once 
again the pure air of the heavens; but 



Z7 



INN^SCLARQUE 

I did not have the power to move, 
and there I ^ood, gazing upon the 
frightful length of the rigid body as 
it lay before me in the lidless coffin. 

, Did my brain reel ? or had she 
really turned her eyes toward me ! 
I did not remain to ascertain the 
authenticity of my suspicions, but 
sprang convulsively from her side, 
and, uttering no word, rushed forth 
a maniac from that apartment of triple 
horror, mystery and death. 

Long years have since rolled away, 
and in the tomb of my beloved de- 
ceased I have spent the greater part 
of my time; the unmanliness of my 
early youth has, as you see, caused 
the death of one of the lovelier ladies 



3d 



INNES CLAROUE 

in the land, as well as bringing upon 
myself a life time full of grief. 

As I said at the very begining; I 
am inditing these lines in a dank and 
muity tomb (the tomb of the angelic 
Innes) that crumbles on the Hill of 
Sere, in the center of the cemetery 
Pere la Chase. 







THE GENIUS 

DU FORTVICTIME IN FORTUNEE 
Partous pays JE SUIS ERRENT, 
Et L'Horrzur de ma destinee, 

SEMBLE'S ACCROITRE a CHAQUE INSTANT; 

Pauvre Emigrant, pauvre Emigrant. 

It goes without saying that my name 
is Jazz Merrazz and upon the utterance 
of my euphonious appellation the 
whole world is touched with an 
inspiring tingle of pride, and I want 
it understood from the very be- 
gining that my genius is inimitable. 

The mephi^ophelian touch of phil- 
osophic philanthropy I have put to my 
principles and pracftices, has, if I am 
not mi^aken, put a quietus upon re- 
ligion and a feather in the conspicuous 
cap of Old John Science. 



40 



THE Genius 

Profoundness of thought andobser* 

vation has often been imputed to me 

as a crime; while the Pyrrhonism of 

my opinions has, at all times rendered 
me notorious. 

Truth, to my notion, is superficial, 
and, in^ead of being the depths where 
we seek her, is far more apt to be on 
the surface before our very eyes. 

But when we do get a fadl before 
our vision we will not be as able to 
perceive and comprehend it nearly 
as well, or with as much precision, 
should we gaze upon it with earned, 
direcft, and undeviating attention, as 
when we suffer our eye to glance in 
its vicinity alone. 1 was not, in my 
early youth, aware that this apparent 



41 



The Genius 

paradox was occasioned by the center 
of the visual mental area which i$ 
less susceptible of tangible impressions 
of confronting-fadts than the exterior 
in^indlive senses. 

This method of reasoning and view« 
ing psychological problemns is infall- 
ible, and it is with some avaricious 
hesitancy that I now make it public. 

It was on leaving college that 1 

began to look around for a channel 

large enough to convey my Aore of 

knowledge into the thirsty desert of 
human ignorance. 

My first idea was to call the world 
into one big meeting and thus enligh- 
ten all the people of the earth at one 
and the same time. But this was not 



42 



The Genius 

feasible. I would have liked to pro- 
claimed my fund of truths from the 
house-tops; but the pidlure of my 
self in such a position was fierce ; 
as I might be mistaken for some big 
double-breamed Scissor build bringing 
up a Aring of telephone wires. 

My next idea was to write a poem 
— - a poem ! ! Good God, what was 
I thinking of. Ah, but I was going 
to put out a verse that would crush 
error, and sweep darkness from the 
earth by mighty strokes of the pen. 

Yet, it is not everyone that reads 
poetry; many do not believe what they 
do read; besides, the very form of verse 
steals from strength as much as it adds 
to grace; and to expedt a philosopher 



43 



THE Genius 

to display the whole scope and power 
of his philosophy in a metrical com- 
position, would be equivalent to expedt 
a giant to display his full strength in 
the slight step of the waltz. With 
this glaring discouragement in my path, 
I shifted my views, and resolved to 
become an editor. The multifarious- 
ness of the subjeds treated of in 
Journals was alluring. 

Again, 1 got it nix-com-fluke ! and 
again I was forced to seek other chan- 
nels. There wasn't a publisher from 
Hear^ up, that would tru^ their fate 
to my genius; and at la^ I was driven 
to dispair and perversion. And the 
klepto-plagiaria with which I was 
so profusly blessed, began to assert il- 



44 



The Genius 

self, and I became so cankerous that 
I at once began to write stinging articles 
free of gratis for the " Daily Ego Sup- 
remo," articles that played sarcastically 
about the word Justice, just like light- 
ning plays about a ruin, showing the 
hallowness of that which only darkness 
makes appear impregnably formidable. 

Therefore, I have resoled to write 
and re-write, fir^ on this, and then on 
that; that is, ofcourse, — if my pen is 
laissez faire. 




THE CASE OF 
JAMES GAFFEEN 



A TERM UNKNOWN TO A PEDANTIC BRAIN 

And unknown to philosophy's art; 
Mathematical skill can no knowledge 

OBTAIN 

In the intricate ways of the heart. 

Charles Dana Gibsen 

Philosophy, as we know, is but an 
an arti^ic arrangement of consoling 
thoughts, ilill, all things are phased 
more or less, by its persi^ent creep- 
ing in, upon our mental and reasoning 
powers. 

What ever were the philosophic 
views of James Gaffeen is a matter of 
little or no moment, nor was his religion 
to be found either here nor there. 



46 



The Case of James Gaffeen 

His career, however, intere^ed me 
deeply, and I whiled away many 
(otherwise monotonous) hours ponder- 
ing over his peculiar case; you may 
well call my intere^, morbid curiosity, 
but as vice is always rated as a 
virtue, by its possessor, I feel that 
1 am ju^ified in stating that I have 
been marvelously blessed with a 
turn of mind that takes the greater 
delight in the weirded, and mo^ mor- 
bid melancholia attainable. 

Now the prison at Waxholm is a 
dreary building, and stands in a mo^ 
dejedted manner on the soggy side of 
an ancient hill, while its classic linea - 
ments gigantically loom above the imm- 



47 



THE CASE OF JAMES GAFFEEN 

ediate surrounding. It was at this house 
of durance vile, that, by pretending to 
be an inmate, 1 managed to live in close 
communion , with the outlaw, James 
Gaffeen. 

" It is a sad thing, " said he one day 
as we were sitting tailor fashion upon 
the massive ^ones that made our floor. 
"It is a sad thing, that a man, even for 
a moment, be forcibly torn from the 
side of one whom he loves, but ; ju^ 
such a case is mine; I admit, however, 
that 1 have lived a Htde outside the 
^rid and narrow limits of the law, ^ill, 
I have had the remarkable success in 
winning the love and undivided aff- 
edlion of our beautiful young Queen; 
r--li^en!" he said, warming up to his 



43 



The Case Of James Gapfeen 

subject. "The Queen of this very 
country is my affinity ; I fir^ met her 
in the woods of Narni, she hacl» thru* 
some freak of chance, become sep- 
erated from her companions, and it 
was upon this specific occasion that I 
met her for the (ir^ time. 

" I was not aware that the beautiful 
creature before me was the Queen of 
my country ; so I rode roughly up to 
her and dismounted. She appeared 
to be very brave, and regarded me 
for some time in utter silence, but 
at length, as she was about to whip 
up her horse 1 threw my arms about 
her wai^ and lifted her to the ground; 
much to my surprise, she uttered no 
cry of alarm, but submitted herself 



49 



The Case Of James gaffeen 

to my embraces; — she came to visit 
me many times, and was, underhand, 
all to me that woman can be to man. 

But one day, an armed guard sur- 
rounded my cabin, and it happened 
that the lady of my heart was about to 
make her departure after paying me 
a short visit that this occurrence took 
place. It was then that I learned the 
identity of my local mi^ress; — ofcourse 
she made a pretence in the aid of my 
capture, but knowing that she adted 
thus wise to protect her honor I held 
my tongue. At all hazards, " he con - 
tinued ''the Queen's love is the key 
to my liberty;— why man !" he added 
J* there is absolutely nothing as unshak- 
I able as woman's love, and my inilindl- 



50 



The Case Op James Gaffeen 

ive faith in her undying affedtion can 

never be shattered." 

At this jundture the jailor itrode 

heavily down the tier, and stopped ab- 
ruptly at our door. 

* Gaffeen!" said he "The Queen's 
willmu^ be done, and the exceutioner 
awaits you. " 











THE LITERARY GIANT 



In the name of Jehova — rags ii** 

CRY OF THE JEW 



With me, cheap notoriety has not 
been a purpose^ but a passion; it is 
the ruling propensity of my psychology 
and mast be attained -— for financial 
compensations, or the lofty commend- 
ations of mankind I care but litde, and, 
as the wodd is in great need of ju^ such 



52 



The Literary Giant 

a man as myself, I can see no plausible 
reason why 1 should not ca^ my pearls 
before the entire swine of the universe. 
No doubt, all the dunderheads of 
today are aware of the great conseq- 
uence that lies in a name. American 
Suffraggettes knew this, and called 
the men all the names they could think 
of. 

Should an individual so desire, he 
could mold his personality into any 
change of character he saw fit, simply 
by the assumation of any name that 
^rikes his fancy. My ancestors, as 
you are no doubt aware, were the 
Eskimos of Angmagsalik, and who 
affirm that a man consi^s but of three 
parts, the body, the soul, and the name. 



53 



The Literary Giant 

The la^ enters the child at the age 
of puberty; take me for in^ance, I'm 
all name, while my soul [whatever that 
is] and body [we know what that is] 
are mere bagatells, floating on the wind 

of the world's contempt. 

My own name for in^ance, which 
rolls in oral euphony beyond the con- 
ceptions of mere man and which causes 
all the cabaret entertainers of the cel- 
e^ial regions to weep with envy, ren- 
ders me mind you,—- not a man, nor a 
monkey (not so sure of the latter) nor a 
soul; -— whatever that is; but a name! 
That it is Marco Popperrelli, you 
know by in^indl; for it often ap- 
pears accross the great heavens lined 
out by all the satellites of kingdom- 



54 



The Literary Giant 

Come, extending from the ultimate dim 
thule, to £diolon*s club-house on the 
Styx; thus, proving beyond a doubt 
that malgre nous, a name is quelque 
chose after all. 

I have thought proper to premise 
thus much, to inable you to appreciate 
the way I have de nier ce que est, et 
d' exqlipuer ce put nest pas. It may 
please your fancy to learn the method 
of procedure that brought me fame— - 
simple. It w^as thus wise : taking pen 
in hand I wrote to the Daly-Liyer as 
follows : 

Editor, Dear Sir ;- 

What information have you con- 
cerning the young author, Marco 
Popperrelli ? Has he not recently 



9^ 



The Literary Giant 

issued a volume of his later works, 
and if so, under what title? His ear- 
lier work promised a brilliant future. 

His poems were palpably the pre- 
cursors of a finished and pleasing style. 
Their di^inguishing attradlion lies in 
the almo^ unparalleled flow and facility 
of the versification. A harmony per- 
vades the whole, a perfedt modulation 
of numbers seldom surpassed and not 
very often equalled in composition of 
this class. 

I underhand that Marco Popperrelli 
resides at Bentley and is contemplating 
a trip abroad, is this true ? Any in- 
formation concerning his late^ work 
will greally oblige, 

J.M.F. 



55 



The LiTErtARY Giant 

This letter of self inquiry succeeded 
wonderfully; the editor bit, and I awoke 
on the following morning to find my- 
self famous. Thus encouraged, I at 
once penned another to Hillenbrand's 
Sciolist, a page very popular *mong 
the scissor-builds of the middle we^; 
it ran : 

"Hillenbrand's Scioli^," 
Editor, Dear Sir;- 

Please inform me through your col- 
umn as to some of the earlier poems 
and minor verses of Marco Popper- 
relli, whose recently published volume 
of poems are now on sale all over 
the world. The finished character 
of these poems has led me to make 
a Audy, both of them and of the author, 



56 



The Literary Giant 

and for this reason I wish to have 
his former productions before me. I 
am sure they mu^ have presaged the 
present acknowledged transcendence 
of Popperrelli. In "The Coquet" 
he deals with passion, humor, and sar- 
casm; he has emerged from ab^radt 
ane pure dissertation; he renders mor- 
ality visible and truth expressive; he 
gives his ideas an attradlive physiogno- 
my. In short, he is a fine writer, per- 
fected evidently, by a knowledge of 
the fine arts. By experience with the 
world and study of style, by continuous 
and delicate study of all that is worthy 
in things and men, in life and art. h 
has been ^ated that Popperrelli re- 
sides at Bentley , but this is an error. 
He frequently visits a friend of his 



57 



The Literary Giant 

there though, that conduds a blind- 
pig in the rear of a tonsorial toillette 
parluer; but his real home is at the 
foot of the town sewer in Frisco. He 
is said to be contemplating a pleasure 
trip to Yenhawk Alley, Boston. A 
little of your valuable space devoted 
to this subject will greatly edify. J.m.f, 

My method of procuring notice, 
was, as you see, a ^rategy quirk of the 
highest order. I felt a devilish thrill 
of pleasure over my situation, much 
like an old maid that is about to be at- 
tacked by a ruffian; in a word, I was 
elated. And am I not right when I 
say man is but name, soul and body ? 
The body, material; name immortal; 
and the soul, ha! ha! ha! 



3$ 



METEORIC GENIUSES 

If He that writes should E'ER be slain. 

We PINO THAT HE'LL NE*ER WRITE AGAIN. 

In the begining, whenever that was, 
there loomed above the literary horizon 
a clan of puerile poets that originated, 
no doubt, during the days when Ned 
in-the-fir^-reader was a con^ituent of 
the literati. It seems that these bril- 
liants have extended thru ' all the ages, 
and even now, one can hardly pick 
up a sheet of current literature without 
confronting a mess of this mawkish 
muddle. They are usually signed by 
»elf %led Meteoric Geniuses — we 



^9 



Meteoric geniuses 

have but to bear in mind, that a meteor 
of any considerable brightness is al- 
ways closely pursued by a comet (an 
editor) with fiery wings and murderous 
intentions. In one hand the comet 
carries a pair of scissors, in the other 
a club. Often times a blue pencil is 
tucked maliciously above one ear; it 
is well to note the position of the scis- 
sors, for should the comet wear them 
in his waiA coat pocket, he is not an 
editor, but a clerk in a dry-goods ^ore 
and represents nothing. 

True genius is always hated by the 
majority of the editors, and if one 
wishes to be successful in literature, 
he mu^ be ^upid, pedantic, white- 
cravatted and hypocritical A thorough 



60 



Meteoric Geniuses 

dunderhead is often a success with 
an editor, where all others fail. 

We all are familiar with the poet 
that hails from the Slum-Gush school, 
they are a worthy lot of **Whitcombe- 
Longfellows'* that beg for recognition 
by filling children's magazines with 
those playfully simple, charming yet 
wonderfully moral Chri^mas copy ; 
di^inguishingly prefaced as a ^'feaj5t 
of good things from the always readable 
pen of the delightful purveyors of in- 
nocent juvenile in^lrudion and amuse- 
ment. " A run of this gaff appear s 
below : 

I Know allttUmal6 ^er eyes are ver^ blue. 
Ker lips ore ver? re6; but wl)at Is tl)al to Y©u? 

ifer name now is ^au6? al). no-um! no; ob well 
'perbaf s if I M know, f erl)af :» 3 woul6'nt lell. 



61 



Meteoric Geniuses 

Knowing that the juvenile mind 
surfeits rapidly, they generally make 
a radical change in their type-face and 
follow up thus : 

^ ou see J we^re lovers true, 
And there^s a saying - well 
That certain, certain things 
A swain must never tell. 

Then : 

r^ u/ swaim may sing their love, 
Sp sing I: **Tra, /a, la' 
I love my pretly lass. 
For I'm her dear papa !!! 

tMd ft^ fM» «^ ft*S! fMs> ^^> **a 

The . exclaimation points attached 
are, no doubt, to let you know at once 
that it is ft surprise poem; whereupon, 



61 



METEORIC Geniuses 

you are supposed to evince your sur- 
prise, and lay commendation upon 
commendation on the meritoriousness 
of the inimitable construction, praising at 
the same time, the bland sweetness 
so cleverly rendered through the soul 
of the whole by these candy-coated 
sciolists. But the sooner a damper is 
put upon their Thingom Bob adivitives 
ju^ that much sooner will we be 
freed from their ninnyfied twattle. 




THEMUNDIST 

a, SiLENCElO BONHUERl INEFFABLE MYSTREREf 

IENIVRANTE LANGUERt 

J'ECOUTEi .. .ET JE COMPRENDS CETTE VOIR SOLIT- 
AIRE. 

QUiCHATE DANS MON COEUR! 

'^^antom 0|>era. 

As to the possibility of modifieing 
the human self, is within the imagin- 
ation of man, but decidedly beyond 
his comprehension; ^ill, the wide 
spread belief in metamorphosis seems 
to yield emphatic affirmation and is too 
d^ep-seated to be utterly repudiated. 



64 



S 



THE MUNDIST 

The phenomena of religious con- 
version, of double personality, of 
hypnotic suggestion, or of normal and 
educational experiences indicate that 
it may itill retain a valid place in our 
thinking. 

G>uld we once peer into that dim 
Yalley — the subconscious self, we 
might well be Aartled at the undreamed 
of possibilities of transformation and 
metamorphosis. 

Butf if one was capable of peering 
into the dim and di^ant pa^ he would, 
beyond all doubt, be able to get aline 
on his future by simply garnering up 
fac5ts in the shifting variations of pro- 
gressing evolution. It is a sad thing that 
my bid friend Roger Casement could 



65 



The mundist 

not see, either into the distant past 
or even the immediate future. 

It is with a feeling of deep, yet moit 
singular friendliness I regarded Sir 
Roger. Thrown into his company 
many years ago, I at once became 
attracted by the oppositness of his 
nature to my own; his erudition was 
profound; his power of mind was gi- 
gantic, while his talents were hued 
and polished to the last point of 
capillary fineness. 

I felt this, and in many matters 
became his pupil; however, he 
was very poor and seemed to suf- 
fer, more from this maledidlion than 
any other misfortune, and though my 
wealth was all a man could wish for, 



66 



The Mundist 



the two of us were like brothers, and 
would often spend hour after hour pon- 
dering over some social or economic 
problem, and there were times loo, that 
we spent an entire night debating 
over topics of this nature. 

Sir Roger Casement soon permit- 
ted his principals to become perverted 
and, at length, he became so violently 
persistant in his diredt adion and other 
radical theories that I found it necess- 
ary to avoid his companionship. 

Several years slid by, during which 
I neither saw nor heard anything of 
my old colleague; but one beautiful 
June day, I was passing on horse- 
back through the ancient borough of 
Pentonville, It was a bright, beautiful 



67 



The mundist 

day; and nature seemed to be burning 
forth with renewed vigor and enthus- 
iasm. On the right, the Ochil mountains 
reared their lofty heads into purple 
heights of haze, while to the left, 
ranged the Cheviots. 

In the center of the scene gleamed 
the serpentine windings of the Forth, 
and above all on its mountain summit 
rose the ca^le of Edengrove; 

'•Like some old veteran grey in arms 
And rough with many a seamy scar '* 

As I entered the principal ^reet 
all was solemn silence, no bu^le nor 
turmoil of the natural attendants of 
society were to be seen or heard -— 
it seemed as though the angel of pen- 
itence had suddenly ca^ his mantle 



6$ 



The mundist 

over the earth. The routine of every 
day life was quite forgotten— in a 
broad central highway, groups of citi* 
zens ^ood in gaping wonder, upon 
every countenance was an expression 
of fear, and if they moved, it seemed 
as though they were heavily depressed 
by some ungodly terror. 

I was amazed, and a melancholy 
gloom pervaded my spirit; a sense 
of insufferable ennui slowly spread 
over my soul. I say insufferable; for 
the feeling was unrelieved by any 
of that half -pleasurable sentiment, with 
which the mind usually receives even 
the ^erneA images of the desolate 
or terrible. I looked upon the scene 
before me with an utter depression 



69 



The mundist 

which I can compare to no earthly 
sensation more properly than to the 
feelings of one that walks a lonesome 
road under a ^rain of self imposed 
horror. 

There was an ieiness, a sinking 
and sickening of heart — an unredeem- 
ed dreariness of thought which no 
goading of the imagination could torture 
into aught of the sublime; for the life 
of me, could I thoroughly account 
for certain peculiar misgivings and 
with great reludtance — rode foward. 

JuA above the heads of the crowd 
^ood a black solitary scaffold ; while 
from a huge transverse beam hung an 
ominous rope* I dismounted and 
Itood almost breathless; cold drops 



70 



THE MUNDiST 

gathered upon my brow; solemly but 
forcibly, a deep heavy stroke of a 
bell broke dismally upon the air; I 
Hood in sightless Hudy for some time, 
when again the gigantic tone rolled 
forth, my heart beat in a moH pe- 
culiar manner; and the fierce bla^of 
a bugle set my nerves completely up- 
on edge. 

Came the sound of clattering horse's 
hoois, and down a narrow tree-shaded 
street proceeded a line of cavalry 
with drawn sabres glittering in the 
sunshine. The crowd mechanically 
gave way — in the rear loomed a 
dark and gloomy building, the jail of 
Pcntonville; Father McCarroll was 
talking in a moH earned manner with 



ro 



The munqist 

ihe prospe<ftive vidlim of the noose 
whom 1 could not see, and as they 
were mounting the scaffold a mob 
of voices arose : 

"Down with the MundiAs, string 
*em up ! let *em dangle, the numskulls 
let 'em dangle ! " 

"Mundists? what do they mean, 
Mundists?" [ejaculated. 

"That is what they term themselves 
Sir," said an elderly man at my side 
"But they are a bunch of patriotic 
fools, they currupt the word mundane, 
and are a rascally bunch of agitators, 
they've caught the ringleader red- 
handed, -— that's him just going up. " 



n 



The iNJUNDisT 



I was somewhat surprised to recog- 
nize the vidtim as my old companion, 
— Sir Roger Casement. 




THE MENTAL WRECK 

"1 OANT eat. and I WONT LAUGH." 

Mla6amn Ipankurst, 

The life of a snappy tale is about 
three seconds; — 1 remember once 
of picking up a volume of " Red Ruin" 

the begining started thus : "In my 
youth I was not much of a lady*s 
man, and I wasalmo^ twenty five be- 
fore I discovered that women had soft, 
supple legs beneath their dresses.., " * 

I topped; and re-read the astonishing 
lines, the fir^ time they thrilled me 
to the soul, but when I attempted a 
second perusal they turned to ashes be- 
fore my very gaze. 



t The "300KMAN*' AuGMST ie. un|e:s'al- 

*MOST identical TO THESE, APPEARED. — ED. 



74 



The Mental wreck 

A man of the world that shatters 
his nerve-centers by reading such e- 
lectified gaff is a fool. The facSl is, this 
sort of literature is perpetrated for the 
the eyes of young ladies, and it is gen- 
erally that young ladies read them. 

In order to shake off whatever effed 
the blazing lines may have upon my 
soul, I at once commingled with a mob 
of Politicians that were gathered about 
the Civic Center. 

Jim Rolfe the immortal mayor of 
Frisco and 1, were friends from early 
youth, and whenever in the presence 
of this prepossessed, big spirited per- 
sonage I was strangely conscious of a 
certain purification of the soul. The 
Mayor introduced me to his opponent, 



7b 



THE Mental Wreck 

who was, if I remember rightly a square 
headed teutonic running on the social^ 
iSt ticket. 

The personality of this hyphenated 
american was of a mo^ extraordinary 
character, the idiosyncrasies that were 
ungodly conspicuous in his mannerisms 
were shocking, and his whole being 
was Wrongly sugge^ive of abjed com- 
miseration. 

He would often come up and say 
• Who*s the next mayor?" and then 
he*d duck as though somebody was 
going to hit him. "Philosophizing?*' 
he*d say, and make a face like a sick 
baby. "Ought'nt philosophize on Sun- 
day" — - then he'd screw up his mug 
to look shocked — "awfully wicked* 



76 



The mental wreck 

and then he'd twiit down the right 
corner of his mouth, and try to wink 
with his left eye. 

He could never articulate without 
pulling a facial Aunt of some sort, in 
a word, the man when talking, con- 
llantly kept in one*s imagination, the 
pi(5ture of the distempered cat which 
died while trying to ma^icate a pot of 
glue. 

One afternoon, ju A before eledtion 
this bewhiskered plug-ugly was stand- 
ing on the head and shoulders of Mc 
AlliAer*s Statue howling like the soap 
box orator that he was. 

"Laydies and jaintulmain/ 
he Started, but I let him get no farther 

•Hello!" says I, breaking in 'epil- 



U 



The Mental Wreck 

epsy!" 

*Eh?" murmured die physiognd- 
matic acrobat. 

"Epilepsy/ says I, "you've got it" 

"Nonsense !" he snapped, turning a 
trifle pale ; " I have* nt a particle of it 
in my system." 

" Oh, " says I, " I beg your pardon; 
"but as an official psychologic of crim- 
inology, 1 could have sworn to the 
incontrolable charad^eriCics that pre- 
dominate the facial- i;i7iae." 

He was slightly disconcerted, but 
after some nervous hesitancy, managed 
to screw his face around in a renewed 
effort. 

"Hold on!" I broke in again, "I was 
wrong. St.vitus dance> or Tm a hood!*' 



f» 



The Mental Wreck 

"What do you mean, Sir ?*' he 
weakly fired back, trying to appear in- 
dignant. 

"Mean!" I exclaimed "Why, man 
you are a total mental wreck, why, say 
even now, at this very moment you 
are so far gone .....," 

The poor fellow began to pale, and 
tremble in a most violent manner, he 
clutched frantically at the air, mum- 
bled something about "I die for my 
cause — pearls before swine, etc, etc. 
etc. 

Then drawing from his pocket a vol- 
ume of "Red Ruin," read a passage 
or so, and forthwith fell into the street, 
a dead but better man. 



>I ■:>.■£ T.^y J '••£''.'■ 



Wi b'V^ ..L'U s; «■ >/y ':? v<.«v..' ..^' iiV' -jv I'-.i'j- 



ii^w.'S'yXi 



,'C.irL;&iri4;5);S;:|ji. 



MURGEON 



1'' 

ViN OU BIERC 

Bin pu vin 

Que MON VCRRC 
SOIT PLEIN 1 



' ••T!^6 ntftit Utt no taUi/' 

Blooov Mary 

••*•'■(■•»' ■ ' •■■ ■, .' ■ • 

' My baptismal name is Murgeon; 
that of my family I will not mention. 
Yet there is no ancestoral-race in the 
land more stable and time-honored 
than my eccentric but respedted fore- 
fathers. But the individuality of man 
re|iders> him relationless^ and the sot 



Mi. 



MURGEON 

called kin of one, is, after all, of but 
little, or no consequence. 

The miseries of life are far reaching, 
and often extend far into the houses of 
wealth and the mansions of mirth; but 
as, in ethics, evil is a consequece of 
good, so, in fa(5t, out of joy is sonow 
born. Our anguish of today can often 
be traced toec^asies of the pa A. 

The recolle<flipns of my earlier 
years are connected with many un- 
mentionable experiences, experiences 
that shall ne*er be told, or if told, 
there very character would only sim- 
ulate disbelief. 

Death, ofcourse, is inevitable and 
makes a complete change in the lives 
of us all. It is mere idleness to say 



$1 



MURGCON 

that we have not lived on earth before 
— that the soul has had no previous 
existence. 

We will not argue ; convinced my- 
self 1 seek not to convince others; my 
lait previous embodiment was spent 
chiefly about the New England States 
nearly a hundred years ago, and to 
my mind, the tales that 1 then wrote 
and that are still upon the book mart, 
prove the absoluteness of my conten- 
tions. 

Several years back, as the shades 
of evening were drawing on, 1 sat 
in a large bay window of a prominent 
hotel in San Fransico. The streets 
were very crowded, and 1 mused for 
some time over the passing turmoil. 



52 



MURGEON 

But, as the darkness came on. 
the throng momentarily increased ; 
and, by the time the lamps were 
well lighted, two dense and contin- 
uous tides of population were rushing 
past the door. 

At this particular period of the 
evening I had never before been in 
a simular situation, and the iamukuous 
sea of human heads filled me, with 
a delicious iKivelty of emotion. 

1 gave up, at length, all care of 
things within the hotel, and became 
absorbed in contemplation of the scene 
without. At first, my observations 
took on an abstrad: and generalizing 
turn. I looked at the passengers in 
masses, and thought of them in their 



33 



MURGEON 

aggregate relations. Soon, however^ 
1 descended to details, and regarded 
with minute intereA the inumerable 
varieties of figure, dress, gait, visage, 
and expression of countenance. 

By far the greater number of those 
who went by had a satisfied business 
like demeanor, and seemed to be 
thinking only of making their way thru' 
the throng. Their brows were knit, 
and their eyes rolled quickly ; when 
pushed again^ by fellow way-farers 
they evinced no symptom of impatience^ 
but adjured their clothes and hurried 
on. 

Others, itill a numerous class, were 
reAless in their movements, had fluked 
(aces, and talked and geAiculated to 



$4 



MURGEON 

themselves, as if feeling in solitude on 
account of the company around. 

I took little or no intere^ in the 
commonplace characters that were hur- 
rying by, such as clerks, nabobs, and 
harmless mootchers. 

The crowd was thoroughly infe^ed 
with crooks — crooks that managed 
to gel by witless detedives by grace 
of assumed excessive frankness, while 
poetic dreamers loitered along myster- 
iously, — their very intelligence 
and superior mannerisms making them 
suspicious to the coarser and less think- 
ing person. 

The wierd effedts of the greenish 
ilreet hghts rendered the faces rather 
wild and fantastic, and I could frequen- 



95 



MURGEON 

tly read, even in a brief glance, the 
hiilory of long years. 

With my brow to the glass, 1 was 
thus occupied in scrutinizing the mob, 
when suddenly there came to my 
view a very haggard and disipated 
countenance; the features, however, 
were of wonderful outline and the 
character of the face was of no common 
order, and as a subjedt for a painting, 
this old man ^uck me as a model not 
easily to be equalled. 

It was through painting this type of 
man that had gained me the di^inguis- 
hed title : Peinter de Fanticies, As 
he began to become swallowed up by 
the crowd, there came a craving de- 
sire to keep him in view — to know 



$6 



MURGEON 

more of him. I hurriedly left the hotel 
and bolted recklessly in pursuit, with 
some little difficulty I at length came 
within sight of him, and after a short 
endeavor^ managed to solicit him in 
conversation. 

Though of the roguish type he 
Itill was endowed with much of the 
^jublime, he was a richly dressed old 
man and I felt some reludlance in 
iugge^ing that he pose as a model. 

"Me pose ! " he echoed, when I 
finally took the courage to make the 
sugge^ion. He halted our walk and 
laid his hands upon my shoulders. 
'* Why, my dear young man, " said he 
" I myself am a painter, and a decade 
ago was world-renowned as the Artiit 



$7 



MURGEON 

of the Weird, my name has extended 
over all the earth, and the people of 
many countries grieved over my sup- 
posed death some ten years passed. " 

"Your name ?" I asked. 

"For a half a century," he went 
on, ignoring my question. "Yes, over 
half a century, my name stood fore- 
most in the world of art. " 

"But what is your name ?" 1 asked 
impatiently, for 1 had been named after 
an artist, presumably the most famous, 
thirty years ago. 

"My name is Murgeon" said he, 
smiling with the confidence the pop- 
ularity of the celebrated name insured. 

"lam your name-sake," I exclaimed 
"And my delight in meeting you it 



3$ 



NURGEON 

unbounded. ' Our surprise and con- 
gratulations remained unrequieted for 
some time. 

Finally he turned upon me rather 
abruptly, and solicited me in what 1 
thought an urgent manner, to call up 
on him the following morning "In fa<5t" 
he a dded, "I am a very early riser and 
1 will count on an early call." He 
pressed his card in my hand hurried 
away. 

Shortly after sunrise the following 
morning, 1 found myself accordingly 
at his Palazzo. The entire place was 
fairly alive with magnificence. The 
room was n^ill brilliantly lighted; I 
judge from this circum^ance, as well 
as from an air of exhaustion in the 



$9 



MURGEON 

countenance of my friend, that he 
had not retired to bed during the 
whole of the preceeding night. 

In the architedlure and embellish- 
ments of the chamber, the evident 
designs were to dazzle and abound. 
Little attention had been paid to the 
decora of what is technically called 
keeping, or to the proprieties of 
nationality. The eye wandered from 
objedt, to objedl, and rested upon 
none — neither the grotesques of the 
Greek painters, nor the sculptures of 
the best Italian days, nor the huge car- 
vings of untutored Egypt. 

Rich draperies in every part of the 
room trembled to the vibrations of 
low, melancholy music. The senses 



90 



MURGEON 

were oppressed by mingled andcon- 
fliding perfumes, reeking up from 
Itrange convolute censers, together 
with multitudinous flaring and flicker- 
ing tongues of violet (ire. 

The rays of the newly risen sun 
poured in upon the whole, through 
windows formed each of a single 
pane of brilliant tinted glass. 

Glancing to and fro, in a thousand 
refledlions, from curtains which rolled 
from their cornices like catarads of 
molten silver, the beams of natural 
glory mingled at length fitfully with 
the artificial light, and lay weltering 
in subdued masses upon a carpet 
of rich, liquid-looking cldth of Chili' 
gold. 



9t 



MURGEON 

'I see" said he, perceiving that 

I could not immediately reconcile my- 
self to the hienseance of so singular a 
welcome— "I see you area^onished 
at my apartment — at my ^atues — - 
my originality of conception in archi- 
tedlure and uphol^ery —- absolutely 
dumbfounded, eh? with my magnifi - 

cence. Ten years ago my uncle, a 
man of untold wealth, died and left 
me disastrously well off, and Grange 
as it may seem, he was but five years 
my senior and in appearance, he was 
almo^ my double; so one day I in- 
vited him to my ^udio and murdered 
him ! 1 disguised him in my clothing 
and forthwith drew up a note indicat- 
ing suicide ; hence, the report of my 



92 



MURGEON 

death. He had, for years lived alone 
in this mansion, and my successorship 
here was never discovered. 

"The brilliant luxuries, and ill got- 
ten gains I have thus attained are but 
taunts to my blighted soul. I know^ 
positive, that poverty is the mother of 
all art and happiness; and in my best 
days, a dark, dismal and gloomy ^udio 
was both a retreat and a haven. But 
here in this damnable paradise" he 
continued, with a shrug of disgu^ 
^ I have lived in perpetual discomfort 
and you are the only living being 
that has been admitted into these 
gorgeous, but illaquired aparments." 
I bowed weakly in acknowledgment to 
his ^atements, and he continued. 



93 



MURGEON 

"Come" he said abruptly, "lam 
to pose, pose as mortal man has never 
before ! " And vaulting into the center 
of the room he drew forth an ugly 
blade, with a sweep quicker than the 
eye he brought the keen edge violently 
across his throat, which went in so 
swiftly and deep, that it bit mightily 
into the bone after passing entirely 
through the neck. Leaving upon my 
memory, one of the mo^ ghaltly 
pi(5tures I had ever seen. 




LODSROGG THE HALF WIT 



PRES DC CELUIGUE J'AIME 
JE VEUX VIVRE ET MOURIR 
ET la MORT, EuLE — MEME. 

Ne peut nous desunir. 



ff^oucant^raUeme. Knock me. butuit5erno 
circumstance forget me. —Teddy. 

My name is Lucas Lodbrogg, of 
this 1 am quite certain, but my nom 
de plume, as you may be elated to 
learn, is Lodbrogg the Half- Wit; that 
I have great savoir vivre you will see 
at once ; and I am sure there is no other 
being who has had the honor of such 
title as mine, it infers that 1 possess,, at 
lea^, half the wit in the entire world. 



9» 



LODBROGG THE HALF WIT 

1 have often been alluded to as the 
modern Shakespeare, but this is a rank 
tnju^ice to me; not so much that he 
was an utter ioo\, but that I, myself 
am his superior. 

It is absolutely absurd for me to 
ever even think of failing in this life, 
even for a moment — cest a dire, an 
pis aller, coute qu, il coute I will cor- 
ner fame. 

Now, I have been one of the fore 
moA writers of the twentieth century, 
and you can, no doubt, imagine my 
vexation and surprise when I read an 
adverse criticism in the **Bookmen." 

It was a propos my article which 
appeared in the Plagair th* Main; and 
in order to get my transcendental ef- 



96 




LODBROGG THE HALF WiT 



fusions before the eyes of a few more 
readers, I herewith set forth in print 
my article, together with their da^ard* 
ly abuse : 

ADVICE TO THE GOVERMENT 

by 

LODBROGG THE HALF WIT 

As a war is now imminent between 
the U.S. and Germany, 1 ha^en to 
tell our goverment, by grace of the 
generosity with which 1 am so profusely 
endowed, how to beat the enemy in 
a cheap and bloodless war. It should 
be carried about thus wise: 

Keep perfectly cool and quiet; let 
our ships do the only thing they can 
— run away. And, as we have no 
torpedos or other defensive organs in 



97 



LODBROGG THE HALF WiT 

our harbors anyway; let some promi- 
nent German-Americans pretend to 
be spies, and have them notify the 
german fleet that they can easily land 
now as the americans have surrendered 
When the complete german army 
lands, give each and every soldier a 
hundred and eighty acres; — this is, 
as any dunderhead can grasp at 
once, an infallible method of pro- 
cedure. 

In due time I shall apply at Wash- 
ington for a considerable some of 
money, this they will gladly pay of- 
course, as a small token of their 
appreciation for my genius. 

Lodbrogg, 
The **Bookmen'* (a monthly that does 



96 



LODBROGG THE HALF WIT 

not realize that sarcasm is not an idica- 
tion of brilliancy.) came out with the 
unparalleled effrontery, and had the 
mitigated gall to chronicle the follow- 
ing, seemingly with little or no regard 
for whatever feelings 1 might possess: 

" We call the attention of our readers 
to the subjoined admirable piece of 
diplomatic philosophy *'A,doiczto our 
doverment,** We need say nothing 
as to the meritoriousness of the ar- 
ticle:—' it is impossible to read it 
without marveling over the genius of 
the author. 

We heartily hope that the gover- 
ment will comply with L,odbrogg*s sug- 
gestions at once, ]ust why Liodhrogg 



99 



LODBROGG The Half wit 

/5 not a millionaire is beyond our 
comprehension',--' an^wa^, we doff our 
hat to the immortal half -mt,^ 

It was really a high-toned notice, 
but after some deliberation, I concluded 
withal that the inimitable comment was 
a farce, and upon close examination 
I mu^ confess that nine tenths of its 
quantity fairly reaked with sarcasm . 

You, who so well know the nature 
of my soul, will not be surprised when 
1 say that I resolved revenge. Of 
course I did not give vent to the wU 
terance of a threat, —- • but proceeded 
very systematically to inflidt a series 
of persecutions. My fir^ adt was to 
trample the la^ number of their maga- 



100 



LODBROGG THE HALF WIT 

zine beneath my feet. There was 
no one about to see me accomplish 
this atrocity, and I carried the adt 
out with precision and impunity. 

My daily route to my down town 
office lay diredtly pa^ the main build- 
ing of the "Bookmen," in passing 
this establishment I would scowl in a 
mo^ dreadful manner; once, I went 
so far as to turn my nose up at the 
janitor of their place. 

One night, I think it was in Oct- 
ober, it was very dark and ^ormy, the 
streets were pradically deserted and 
not a soul was to be seen. 

it was on this night, I say, that 
I planted myself diredtly opposite 
their plant, and shook my fi^ over a 



toi 



LODBROG6 THE HALF WIT 

hundred times! in their direction. 

The moment anyone passed I 
would ^and motionless until the 
coait became clear, whereupon I 
began my (i^ shaking all over again. 

The following day I purchased a 
ticket for the far we^ and made good 
my escape, — • a half a century has 
elapsed and, as yet, I have never 
been over taken. So all is comme il 
fauU and my entourage isje ne sais quoi 




TELCANI 



QUAND UN BON VIN MCUBLE MON ESTOMAC. 
JC SUIS PLUS SAVANT QUE BALSAC — 

Plus sage que Pibrac; 

MoN bras SEUL FAISANT L'ATTAQUE 

De la nation Cossaque. 

La mettroit au sac- 

De Charon je passerois le lac 

En dormant dans son bag; 

J*IORIS AU FIER EAC. 

Sans QUE MON coeur fittic ni tag. 
Presenter du tabag 

Kln^ lOeatb is a fool. an6 selects Indlscrlml- 
«ate(]^» ••- Keats. 

Poor Telcani. I knew him well ; 
he was a fine manly fellow, with a 
hand as open as day, and a heart of 



103 ^ 



Telcani 

of pure^ generosity. We had been 
intmate friends from early boyhood 
and when we left college, we ^ood 
together utterly inexperienced in any 
branch of industry that might adt as 
a means of livelihood. 

Various were the schemes and 
designs we projedled for the advance- 
ment of our fortunes, but each succeed- 
ing day found us as undecided as ever. 

One dark, dismal and dreary after 
noon, as the shades of night crept 
slowly above the eastern horizon, we 
were loitering leisurely along the 
banks of the Yarrow, and suddenly 
on emerging from a dank cluster of 
cypress we found ourselves approach- 
ing upon a camp of wandering 



t04 



Telcani 

Gipsies. Telcani proposed, that for 
a frolic, we should request some seer 
or seeress to pass, prophetically, upon 
our future. 

To this 1 gladly assented, and a 
moment later we were comfortably 
seated in the private quarters of Theda 
Bareux, a world famed Psychic and a 
woman of uncommon qualifications. 

"Ah" she said, raising her eyes 
slowly to meet those of my friend, 
"thine is a melancholy destiny and 1 
see that thy name is Telcani." She 
closed her large mysterious eyes and 
shook her head in a most sympathetic 
manner. 

"Very good! that's excellent!" 
exclaimed my companion. "This 



t05 



Telcani 

promises to be interesting; come now, 

* If thou canst look ^^^o the seeds of time 

And tell which will grow and which 

will not.* 

''Tell me the wor^ that shall ever 
befall me and 1 will pay you well, 
I have a peculiar facination for the 
tragic and my nerves are such that a 
so-called shock proves a mere baga- 
telle to my callous soul;" and with 
an air of braggadocio he held forth his 
palm. 

"See!" she said suddenly, devert- 
ing her gaze from intent ^udy of his 
hand and pointing to a di^ant ^ar 
that was shining brilliantly in the 
heavens. " Look ! " and she extended 
her long bronze-like arms toward it. 



t06 



Telcani 

"See yon ilar near to the belt of 
Orion? Tis thine/' 

The merry Telcani became com- 
pletely subdued by her singular manner 
and gazed upon the planet intently, 
he seemed to be a^onished in regards 
to her uncanny knowledge, and re- 
mained silent while she continued. 

''I see by the fountains of truth, that 
a peril of a mDit fatal nature awaits 
you." here she bowed her head and 
mumbled a Weird chant in her native 
tongue. 

"But when —- where?'* asked my 
friend in a tone that betrayed his ex- 
citement. 

'*Where the summer blooms not, 
where the ^ars look not down, nor 



107 



Telcani 

the song birds ever sing ; your guide 
is an evil one, and beckons to you 
from a dreary region, — in seven years 
you will submit to his call, and 
it w^ill be then that your doom will 
terminate, — as I say my dear, thine 
is a melancholy de^iny.*' 

** As 1 do not believe a word you 
say," said Telcani' **you may speak 
as plainly as you like ; besides, I have 
a heart for any danger and if you do 
know anything you should know that 
my fears are few.*' 

'*1 know your heart my dear," she 
broke in **but thy ilar has departed 
from view, and all further prescience 
is denied me. Remember, seven 
years and the horrible truth will con- 



\0$ 



Telcani 
vince you of my word's significance.* 

Many years after this adventure, I 
was residing in one of the principal 
sea ports of England, where 1 became 
intimately aquainted with the captain 
of the Dargo, a vessel that was us- 
ually employed in whaling excursions 
along the shores of Spitzbergen. 

From his agreeable manners in 
conjundtion with the glowing descrip- 
tion he gave me of his adventures 
in that desolate region, gave me a 
^fong desire to make a trip there, and 
I no sooner expressed myself in this 
regard, when he tendered me free 
passage; he treated me royally, and 
I was given to underhand that 1 was 



t09 



Telcani 

to consider myself a privileged char- 
aifter and that all hospitalities aboard 
the Dargo was to be taken for granted. 

Being comparatively my own ma^er 
I accepted at once. And it was but 
a few weeks later that we set sail 
from the port of Hull ; ours was a 
gallant crew and we put to sea sat- 
isfied to the man. 

After a run of forty days, during 
which time we visited the Orkney 
Islands, we found ourselves, upon 
taking exadt reckoning to be lying 
between 9 and 24 E. Ion., and 76, 30 
and 80 N. latitude. 

The season selected for the pur- 
suance of the fishery is during the 
short summer.— when vegetation 



no 




^long ti^e shor^Miif Spitxh^t§^^n, 



Telcani 

springs forth with such rapidity that 
the spot, which perhaps the night 
before was a plain of ice, will ap- 
pear in the morning a fresh verdant 
meadow. 

The shrubs will be clothed with 
leaves, the air heavy with fragrance 
and the scream of the plover, and the 
pipe of the partridge are heard from 
every direction. 

Having been extremely fortunate 
in completing our cargo sooner than 
we expeded, the captain and myself 
resolved to enjoy the fine shooting 
that was to be found among the is- 
lands. One day, so exciting had 
been the sport, that we found our- 
selves at a considerable distance from 



ttl 



Telcani 

where our vessel was docked, in fadl, 
we had wandered so far into the in- 
terior of the island that we were over 
half way across its body proper. 

As we neared the opposite shore 
of the small body of land, we were 
surprised to see a large vessel as if 
lying at anchor, or rather imbeded 
in the ice. 

Our curiosity was greatly excited 
and we ^udied the peculiar craft 
for some time. Ofcourse, we at fir^ 
took it to be an optical delusion; but 
on learning that it was not, we at 
once determined to pay the vessel a 
visit upon the spot. There was a 
sheen of thick ice that the vessel ^ood 
again^ broad side ; and as we neared 



m 



Telcani 

her, we discovered that the sails were 
hanging in tatters; the rigging was 
broken and entangled, while the bow- 
sprit seemed to be gone entirely. 

There were no visible signs of her 
being manned and we were within 
but a few paces of her. She was 
a bark of 'bout a thousand tons and 
was, to our surprise, wedged very 
firmly in the ice. 

It was apparent that she had suf- 
fered much; and all remained in ab- 
solute silence, except, one solitary 
curlew which rose from the deck, and 
kept screaming and wheeling around 
as if unwilling to leave. 

With considerable difficulty we 
managed to climb aboard ; and as we 



tl3 



Telcani 

decked her, thefirit thing that greeted 
our gaze was the form of a dog, 
ilretched out iliff and lifeless in the 
embrace of death. 

The carcass was perfedl and entire 
and was without the slighted sign 
of decomposition or decay; it was 
preserved, no doubt, by the extreme 
severity of the climate. 

Everywhere around us lay emblems 
of neglect and desolation, evidently, 
ihe vessel had been deserted, but 
for what purpose, we were at loss to 
determine. 

On displacing one of the hatch lids 
we found that the cargo was a val- 
uable one, and it was a solemn and 
singular sight to find thus a gallant 



114 



Telcani 

monarch of the deep. We descend- 
ed the companion-way to the cabin 
and found the door a-jar— all was 
darkness and quiet, I placed my foot 
upon some substance, and as I bent 
to feel 1 encountered a human hand 
that was very cold and clammy. 

I daggered back, ^artled — - the 
captain ^ruck a light, and a scene of 
horror, of a moSl terrifying nature bur^ 
into view. 

Around the table sat several bod- 
ies, eredt and cold, and evidently 
had been lifeless for many months. 
All were in gruesome attitudes, and 
all that remained of the eyes of each 
man were the empty sockets ; their 
flesh was in a wonderfully di^indt 



US 



Telcani 

^ate of preservation, while a green 
and viscous mould had settled com- 
pletely over them. 

The man who was sitting at the 
head of the table I recognized at once, 
he was, as you are no doubt aware, my 
old friend and the conipanion of my 
youth — • Telcani. 




JAZZ MERAZZ 



Please shed no tears above my grave — 
Remember the Johnstown flood. 

Lillian Russell. 



Let it be underwood from the very be- 
gining that I am a man of my word. 
Impossible ? — Not so, not so ! 

And that I am a painter, also, of 
uncommon qualifications, no man can, 
I imagine, feel himself at liberty to 
dispute. Then again, who would 



itr 



Jazz Merazz 

be brazen enough to launch an enuen- 
do in my dired:ion? 

My model, mind you, was the 
Goddess of proportion, and it was well 
said by many, that anyone who would 
kick on her figure would kick on be- 
ing hung. 

Now what drove me to di^radlion 
was the fadl that she would only pose 
in the one exclusive subjedl,— - Vanity, 
in fadl, her vanity would permit her 
to pose no other way. 

I had an order of no mean con- 
sideration to paint Rebecc at the well, 
when to my con^ernation and disgu^ 
my model shyed into the room with 
a hand mirror and a cloud of perfume. 

At once 1 became enraged, I cursed 



US 




Her vanity would permit her to pose no other way 



Jazz merazz 



I swore, I roared, and rushing down 
to the lower plaza 1 eredted a scaffold 
and hung myself upon the spot. 

There is no such thing as death 
by hanging, and the vidlim merely 
experiences a series of sensation of 
a moit pleasing nature, and but for 
the chafiningof the rope, the pressure 
of the knot and the swelling of my 
optics, 1 found, that hanging was after 
all, an event never to be forgotten. 

1 heard my heart beating with viol- 
ence — and the veins of my hands and 
wriils swelled nearly to burning, while 
my temples throbbed tempe^uously. 
Yet, when 1 say that in spite of all 
this my feelings were no/ absolutely 
intolerable, I will not be believed. 



U9 



Jazz Merazz 

There were noises in my ears, fir^ 
like the tolling of huge bells -— then 
like the beating of a thousand drums — 
then, la^ly, like the low solemn mur- 
muring of the sea. But these noises 
were far from being disagreeable. 

Have I not told you that I am a 
man of my word ? Believe me then 
when I say that I, Jazz Merazz, pain- 
ter, and mephi^ophelian philosopher 
am chronicling this from a hisioriette, 
fait accompli by le esprit borne, 

I took a wild delight in analyzing 
my conceptions. Memory, which of 
all other faculties, should have fir^ 
taken its departure, seemed on the 
contrary to have been endowed with 
quadrupled power. Each incident of 



no 



Jazz merazz 

my pa^ life flitted before me like a 
shadow. There was not a brick in 
the building where I was born — - 
not a page in the primer I had fingered 
when a child — - not a tree in the 
fore^ where I hunted when a youth, 
that I did not mo^ palpably behold. 

I could repeat to myself entire lines, 
passages, chapters, books, from the 
iftudies of my earlier days; and while, 
I dare say, the crowd around me 
were blind with horror, or agha^ with 
awe, I was alternately with Aeschylus 
a demi-god, or with Ari^ophanes, a 
frog. 

A dreamy delight suddenly took 
hold upon my spirit, and 1 imagined 
that I was filled to the brim with 



121 



Jazz Merazz 



Dago-red, and that I had jufl finished 
feeding upon the Hashish of the old 
Assasins. Finally, I heard my name 
going the rounds of the crowd, it 
sounded to my ear, much as celluloid 
smells when burning ; — it was Jazz 
Merazz this. Jazz Merazz that, and 
Jazz Merazz the other thing. 
"After all" thought 1 "sacrificing my 
self thus has not been in vain, for my 
name has been circulated by the tong- 
ues of men, " and this, as we know, 
is about the only compensation any 
arti^ need ever expect:. 




BLOODY FINGERS 

When we want a good girl. 
We want her bad. — but not TOO bad. 



lOtatk i^ci^9 U3t to a distant s^orft 
Vl^\)ztt sa^ souls struggle evermore — * 
W^ere rising floods of knowledge rolL 
^nd four and pour upon t^e souL 

No woman was more lovely than 
the fair E^ell, and I would swear 
to this upon my soul. Kings had bent 
their knee before the shrine of her smilei 
and men of every description were 
her willing attendants. As for myself, 



123 



Bloody Fingers 

I am a sculptor of some renown, and 
you can, no doubt, realize the great 
joy with which my soul was inthralled 
as the day set for my wedding drew 
near. 

Her father, who had ju^ died was 
much averse to our intention, and 
his laft words were in the shape of 
a curse, which he endeavored to bring 
down relentlessly upon our heads. 

His death, however, was the close 
to all objection, and the night of our 
marriage was soon at hand. The 
gorgeous apartments of the beautiful 
E^ell were thrown open to guests of 
every description. The princely ; the 
noble ; the talented and the beautiful ; 
painter, sculptor, and men of all rank 



Bloody Fingers 

were present ; for invitations had been 
circulated far and wide. The lady 
of my heart professed to be extremely 
happy, but 1 could easily see that 
faint uneasiness with which all women 
approach the alter. 

What-with a rumor afloat that iteps 
were being taken to prevent the cere- 
mony, we deemed it judicious to 

have a house-officer ^and at hand 
with a naked sword. 

E^ell and 1 were kneeling with 
bowed heads at the feet of the Cardi- 
nal as he began the service, and, if 
1 remember rightly, it was at the very 
moment that I was placing the ring 
upon her velvety white finger that an 
arm shot forth, thru^ing deep into the 



Bloody Fingers 

bosom of my bride, an ugly and glit- 
tering ^iletto. So in^antaneous was 
the blow with the appearance of the 
arm thru^ from a cloak, that there 
was no chance to warn, no chance to 
defend her! But ere the dagger had 
withdrawn, the hand of the assassin 
fell to the ground, cleft at the wri^ 
by the sword of the man on guard. 

The room was simultaneously fil- 
led with a cry of horror ! the assassin 
in the commotion, had instantly fal- 
len back and hid himself amid the 
throng ! The loss of his hand had 
given him advantage of escape as its 

fall to the floor and the flow of blood 

drew the attention of the guests for 

the moment, and thus enabled the 



Bloody fingers 

villian to elude detedion. Cries of 
•seize him/" echoed and re-echoed 
throughout all ajoining compartments. 
"Close the doors and permit no one 
to depart ! " shouted a chorus of voices 

The crowd, in fadl, was very enthu- 
sia^ic in the anticipation of a capture » 
and the excitement became intense; 
every man looking upon his neighbor 
with horror and suspicion, and each 
mortified over the idea that a bleed- 
ing assassin was among them. 

* By heaven! " cried the officer who 
had severed it; "it is a woman's 
hand, and a well born woman's too!" 
And he held up to view a very ex - 
quisitely formed hand of a female, 
the drops of crimson gore Gaining its 



Bloody Fingers 

blue-veined skin» and thus contra^ - 
ing its whiteness / The fingers were 
singularly symmetrical, and on one of 
them was a ring of peculiar setting. 

" This ring, " exclaimed the detedl- 
ive, "will lead to the arre^ of the 
culprit! there will be somebody, no 
doubt> who can identify the ring." 

However, the murderer was no 
where to be found in any part of the 
entire building, and the whole ter- 
rible affair remained wrapped in 
my^ery. 

1 was almo^ upon the verge of 
collapse from the shock, and feeling 
that 1, as well as anybody else, may 
be able to identify the severed extrem- 
ity, took the hand of bloody fingers 



Bloody fingers 

and put it in my pocket. Then 
kissing my wife,-— my wife of a sec- 
ond — my dead wife farewell 1 left 
the house of horror at once ; taking 
out my watch 1 saw that but a dozen 
minutes had elapsed since the death 
wound had been inflided, the only 
clew, too, was that the hand of death 
was thrust, seemingly, from the low- 
er extremity of the Cardinal's cloak 
and at a moment when he held the 
holy book in one hand, while the 
other was slightly elevated. 

The extraordinary situation was 
really baffling, and no one ever learned 
that it was/, myself that had committed 
the deed I Not so much that 1 did not 



Bloody Fingers 

love the beautiful E^ell, but that I crav- 
ed to possess her entire fortune— - 
a fortune that fell into my hands at the 
moment of her death. 



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Speaking of death, I must sing ;— 
Or die with songs unsung. 




INTRODUCTION TO POEMS 

Of nothing clever, save the way 
Weird-Hke subjeds hold the eye, 
As do the demons ghastly gay, 
That form imagination's prey. 

O, nothing high enough to fill 
Your soul with approbating thrill 
As does the work of passion-hearted 
Ma^er- Minders long departed. 
Whose names on earth will ever dwell 
Like the endless sea-song in a shell. 

O, nothing finished as the flowers, 
Or quite as lofty as the towers ; 
Nevertheless a philosopher sees 
Weird (non-tragic) things will please. 




125 



THE COQUETTE 

It was a lady young and fair 
Who sang the mournful ^rain, 
Her brow wore not a shade of care, 
Her cheek no trace of pain ; 
Yet sung she, ju^ as one who knows 
How youthful hearts are torn, 
Love's firit Aep is on the rose 
The second finds the thorn. 

No brighter, lovelier face appears 
In pleasure's crowded mart. 
That proud eye was not made for tears, 
No blight should touch that heart ; 
Yet, mark how sad the music flows 
From lips curled half in scorn,— - 
Love's fir^ ^ep is on the rose, 
The second finds the thorn. 



t26 



THE COQUETTE 

Bright jewels bound her raven hair, 
And sparkled on her hand, 
For earth held naught of rich or rare 
Her wealth might not command ; 
But as she sings, some memory throws 
Its shadows o'er life's morn ;— 
Love's fir^ ^ep is on the rose, 
The second finds the thorn, 

Alas ! it is a weary task. 
To trace life's hidden cares. 
And who would raise the smilig mask 
A deceitful maiden wears? 
Her mournful song may well disclose 
How much her soul is worn :— 
Loves fir^ ^ep is upon the rose, 
The second finds the thorn. 



127 



MAN AND BEAST 

Says Tom to Dick, the other day, 
" I've been thinking that our bosses 
Could use us better every way. 
If we were horses. " 

"O, no, for horses may be lost 
We know without the aid of scholars 
That to replace one it may cost, 
A hundred dollars. 

But you and 1 may starve and slave, 
What matters if we are all brothers ; 
If we should die, they will not have 
To purchase others. " 










126 



THE POET AND THE 
SPARROW 

In the chill snow, a birdling hopped, 
And thus exposed were its tender feet 
He chirped so sweetly that I stopped; 
As he capered gayly 'bout the ^reet. 

"Dearbirdy" said I, with a smile, 
"You are, no doubt, by nature sent 
For man's sad spirits you beguile. 
And teach him lessons of content." 




129 



MELANCHOLY 

Grief is bitter in the hour 
When we feel its goading power ; 
When beneath its venomed smart 
Reels the brain and sinks the heart ; 
Then the laboring bosom swells 
Struggling with its deep digress. 
And from the very inmo^ cells 
Gush the drops of bitterness. 
But when melancholy flings 
From his soft and soothing wings 
Melting in the he art away 
The deeped anguish day by day 
So grief, in melancholy's hand, 
Dismal, sweet, and soft appears ; 
Though no cmile it can demand, 
Neither does it call for tears. 
Then, far better than all this. 
We receive Death's lasting kiss 
Breathing on the wounded heart 
Balm no other can impart. 



130 



AEONS AGO 

I oft cogitate on the mystical past. 

Many aeons ago, 

When cohesion of 'ledlrons first began 

In terre^rial caverns below ; 

Yes, I oft wonder how the heulandite 

grew, 
In its terrahexahedronical way, 
Enclosed in its amygdaloidalic home 

In the antediluvian day. 
The great pachydermatous dinother- 

iums roamed, 
Tho' hypostatically unknown to me 
In those hyperborean regions of cold 
By the paleocrystic sea. 
But by some sudden glacial cataclys- 

matical change. 

The whole biobdingnaggian mess 

Were irrevocably buried in Cenozoic 

drift. 

And irretrievably lo^ — I guess. 



I3t 



THE LITERARY GOAT 

The goat is very much maligned ; 
His ta^e perhaps is not refined, 
But in his own peculiar way 
He grasps the que^ions of the day, 
And takes them in mo^ thoroughly ; 
A literary dige^ he 
Of great capacity and power. 
Should you, like me, to pass an hour 
Indite some verse, I'm sure he would, 
Like mo^ the half-wits, say : 
"That's good." 




132 



THE STORM 

Yes, Yes! I hear the midnight blast 
Moaning around my lonely home, 
And over everythmg is cast 
A spell of melancholy gloom. 
1 1 mourns like spirits on the wing 
Hark ! hear the swishing of the rain 
Screaming thru' the whistling wind, 
Then all is vStili again. 

The ragged jagged lichtniug's fire 
Pierces through the dismal night. 
And when the thunder roars its ire 
My spirit feels dehght 
To hear the elemental vStrife, 
And see the demon ride the storm 
JeopardizinG all of life — 
Ah, I love tHe storm. 






'mm 



133 



THE CAMERIST 

It may be that I am defcdtive 
in humor; but Td like to hammer a 
Youth that's abroad with a detective 
camera. 

I cannot find, though long refledtive, 
In dictionary or in a grammer a 
Phrase to fit him and that detedtive 
camera. 

He shoots the face in wild perspective 
He makes one look like a jim- jammer a 
Doddering wreck, with his detedtive 
camere. 

He shows these libels irrespective. 
To our friends, who raise a clammer a 
Wild shriek of mirth o'er his detedtive 
camera. 

I'd like to try my hand corredtive> 
And give this gay pidtorial clammer a 
Swat with his ever alert detedtive 
camera. 



134 



THE SCRIBE 

A man of letters. A pen. 
No creed or greed to foul his aim, 
And stands a man among all men, 
Yet, knows the tricks of any game. 

Toiled and studied through iron years; 
His morals ^mount to a tinker's damn; 
We raise our glass in earnest ; Here's 
No mollycoddle, but a man . 



/a 



^M 



nj 



135 



TO ANNA 

Adieu — I ne'er may see thee more» 
But treasured in this faithful breaA, 
Although I roam a di^ant shore, 
Thy saintly image ^ill shall re^ ; 
And like yon star's celestial beam, 
That gilds the clouded brow of night 
Shed o*r life's dark and troubl'd stream 
A ray of pure and holy light. 
Each gentle word, each look of thine 
That sandifies this parting hour, 
A holy spell will sure entwine, 
And shield me with its magic power. 
When rosy twilight's lingering ray, 
From off the ocean's heaving breast. 
Softly and sweetly melts away. 
And all puts on a look of re^. 
Then, Anna, Til livu o*er again, 
Those happy moments spent with thee 
And though divided by the main, 
Our souls will ^i\\ commingled be. 



136 




"Then Anna. I'll live o'er again. 
Those bright-winged moments spent with thee. 



Jure (Divino 

The grave is cheerless to the view, 
And mouldering remants lie around 
Of wrhat was man — - yet balmy sleep 
Is hear unbroken, to be found. 
When friends fall off like autumn leaves 
And all of Hfe is dipt in gloom ; 
Where can a blighted heart find ease 
As well as in a dreamless tomb ? 
Do not grieve that life must end — 
This weary life, we seem to crave, 
For death inevitably will lend 
Eternal reH within the grave. 




137 



EFERNirr OF DREAMS 

1 threw a bauble to the sea, 
A billow caught it hastily ; 
Another billow quickly came 
Successfuly the prize to claim; 
From wave to wave uncheckt it pass'd 
Till tossed upon the ^rand at la^ 
Of some far di^ant shore. 
Passing simply, as a dream 
And really --- does it not seem 
That life, is but a ladling dream ? 
While we're doomed to dream and 

dream 
To dream --- forevermore. 



I3a 



A THOROUGH BOHEMIAN 

I'm ju^ human, and have no creed, 
Nor do I try to lift or save, 
I won't appeal or intercede 
For any fool or any knave ; 
I never make a rigid pledge. 
And no man's character I assail ; 
While many swing a filthy sledge 
Of criticism rant and ^ale. 
I'm faithful to the thinker's po^ 
My own soul I'm captain of; 
No holy fire or pentecoil 
Can force on me a savior's love. 
I fight alone, and win or sink, 
1 need no one to make me free, 
And want no Je^us Chri^ to think 
That he could ever die for me. 
I alv/ays give what eer I can 
And lay away no miser's store 
And what I take from any man 
I have no thankful feeling for. 



t39 



A Thorough Bohemian 

All you worship, fear and trust, 
I kick into the sewer's maw, 
And fling my hatred and disgu^ 
Again^ your paltry grafting law 
For all 1 wish beneath the sky 
Is simply this — to live and die. 




140 



so DROOPED THE GIRL 

Sing, min^rel, sing the bier 
Where rayless she doth lie. 
Like moon's bright dewy tear, 
Crushed by rude foot ^eps ere 
The sun is high ! 

Lift up the jealous veil 
Which fain would interpose 
Its folds of fabric pale, 
To hide — sounds soft the wail 
Love's bosom rose. 

Let music's deeped swell 
Rise sweet the lute above» 
And 'mid its pauses tell, 
How faded and how fell 
The flower of love. 



141 



So Drooped The Girl 

Like leaf from mountains brow 
Ca^ on the ^reamlet's brea^, 
Chant to the breezes how, 
Gently on currents slow 
It flowed to reil. 

Sing ! Minstrel, pour thy lay — 
The lyre's best string is mute ! 
Chant the young quesn of May, 
Whose hand forge Is to stray 
Along the lute! 

And the deep voiced min^rel spoke/ 

" She hath her spirit height. 

Like tree 'neath woodman's ^roke ; 

Like bird with pinion broke ; 

In midway flight. 

"She faded down the sky. 
Singing such melting tone. 
That the wild lark, hovering high, 
Struck with strange melody. 
Forgot his own. 



142 



So Drooped The Girl 

"Cold was the world's bleak shower 
Along her cheek of pearl ; 
And like the passion-flower 
Chiird in some wintry bower — 
So drooped the girl, 

" Death saw and loved the maid, 
(Oh ! prize for dark decay) 
And with a kiss of shade 
All Judas-like, betrayed 
The bride away. 

"Along the silent ^air 
So Wealthy was his tread, 
That the watchers worn with care, 
Dreamed not of robber there. 
Till he had fled ! 

" And the watch lamp burning low, 
Ca^ o'er the spoil he left, 
Dim shadows creeping slow, 
Along its brow of snow. 
To hide the theft. 



143 



So Drooped The Omu 

* But when the dazzling day 
Streamed out from orb divine, 
They read by the tell-tale ray. 
Which bathed that cheek of clay, 
The spoiler's sign. 

''They k^ew that she had died, 
That the archer's claim was paid, 
Yet one, who ^ood beside 
That remnant of a bride, 
Almost had said ; 

**How beautifully deep 
In min^rel trance she lies ! 
It is a sin to weep. 
So gently closes sleep 
Her soft sealed eyes.**' 




144 



THE HELL SHIP 

Hurrah! hurrah for the foaming flood 

Of fiery Phlegethon 

A demon bride, 

And devilish bridegroom side by side^ 

Are sailing the river upon ; 

He's an imp of the very be^ blood 

And she's a devil of Ton, 

Their brig is the sha-terad fragments of 

A shipwreck long ago. 

In a fanthomless bay, 

For a cycle of years it rotting lay, 

So the devil employed it now ; 
The roof of the murky pit he clove, 
And the old hull tumbled through. 

From sinews dry her ropes were made* 

Of a race of Egyptian kings, 

Newly lifted from 

Vaults of mephi^ophalian catacombs; 
Her sails were leathery things. 

Of crimnal's skins that alive were flayed 

Some were, and of vampire's wings. 



145 



The Hell Ship 

Blocks and spars, are skulls and bones 

Some were by famine slain, 

Some met their doom 

From burning blasts of a great simoom, 

And for ages unburied had lain 

Where they had heaved their dying 

groans, 

In the midst of a desert plain. 

Her mast was the stem of a Upas tree, 
For many a death renowned 
And still it bore 
Of poisonous juices, a pestilent store 
And the devil a banquet found; 
''Ah, it is very good liquor" says he 
And he passed the goblet around. 

The demon mariners shrieked as they 

found 
A drink that was quite to their mind 

They sucked it dry, 

Then with their lengthy teeth did try 

To tear off the horrible rind, 



14*6 



TheHellShip 

And frightful to hear was the gnashing 

sound 

Of their tusks as they did grind. 

The vessel was manned by the self- 
same crew 
That with her did plumb the deep, 

Ah /little they thought 

In fancied security slumber they sought 

They would never again watch keep; 

The ^orm on the pinions of destiny 

flew, 

And they slept an eternal sleep. 

All fleshless, all lifeless, all souless now 

They moved in skeleton shape; 

Twas hideous to see 

Those bony things trying to join in the 

glee, 

With their dead jaws all agap, 

Hearing as they trailed both to and fro 

Their dry joints creak and snap. 



wr 



THE Hell Ship 

As each one to his grinning jowl. 

Lifted a vessel up — 

(A suicide's skull' 

With thick black juice from the upas, 

full 

Fevering in the cup,) 

Thru' their jaws the liquor would fall, 

And down on their bare ribs drop. 

In one fearful group from the others 

apart, 
They were playing for awful gain 

The souls of those, 

Whose wicked lives brought a wicked 

close, 

Nov/ doomed to unending pain 

Satan poured vitrol on each one 's heart 

And placed insedts in each ones brain. 




SACRAMENTAL 

One speaks for all — when Peter thus 
Speaks for himself, he speaks for us; 
And all who loves the Savior,s name 
Loves with Peter's earned flame. 
Come ! who such appeal can make. 
Who love him for his own dear sake, 
Come ! in his arms of grace recline, 
And fea^ with him on bread and wine 
A royal table / royal cheer ! 
HaAe, hungry, thirty, fainting here ! 
Neath mercy's gentle spreading wings 
Step forward, there is naught to fear 
Of cosmopolitan. Kings of Kings.(?) 



149 



POLITICIAN 

A man went hustling down the street 
His hat pulled o'er his eye, 
He took his strides so long and fleet 
That every one he chanced to meet, 
Stood and stared 
And then declared 
That he was some official cheat, 
Rushing away to the county-seat ; 
He shook his head and then his fist 
Once he struck at the wind and missed 
He slapped his thighs 
And d— d his eyes ; 
His get-there- virh was hard to beat 

By any man his size 

He's "Political" we know at ohce^ 

For these big ^iffs pull many stunts 

To make us think there wise. 



150 



THE DEATH OF LEONORA 

I see thee in thy summer bower, 
The faired and the sweetest flower; 
The sunshine of thy happy heart 
In blushes o'er thy features ^art. 
And well it may, sweet maid for ne'er 
Hail thou felt a shade of care. 
And like thine own Italian skies, 
Without one cloud to ^ain their bright 
Blue endless depts -—thy laughing eyes 
Flash thru' their lashes, lu^rous light. 
The rosebud gemm'd with pearly dew 
Ju^ opening to the glow of heaven 
Seems not so sweet as the rich hue 
That to thy rosy lip is given. 
Thy dark tresses wild and free, 
Stream on the balmy breath of eve; 



151 



The Death Of Leonora 

A sight mo^ beautiful to see. 
Oh! that such charms should ever leave 
This world of ours, such dv^ellers here 
Would change it to a glorious sphere / 
So sat the maid in beauty's charms, 
Her young heart fraught with feelings 

kind; 
Secure from danger and alarms. 
And wooing of the balmy wind, 
That swept overbeds of fragrant flowers 
While slowly, rose the evening ^ar 
And ^illy fell the dewy showers -— 
As sweetly in her silver car, 
Cair.e twilight with her solemn beam 
O'er mount and vail ay lake and ^ream 
When hurtling in the golden we^ 
Was heard the thunder's voice of ire; 
Around each peak and Alpine cre^, 



152 







Tme fairest and the SWECTFST pi OWF^" 



The Death Of Leonora 

Lept the lightning's forked fire, 
Yet, ^ill upon the scene so wild, 
Fair Leonora looked and smiled 
Strong in her faith, the lightning's dart 
Or thunder peal awed not her heart. 
When hark! a crash falls on the ear, 
A blighted flower the maiden lies ; 
Struck by the lightning's vivid beam, 
Struck, blighted, never more to rise; 
The blush has fled her dimpled cheek 
Dimmed is the light that lit her eyes; 
Her rosy lips ne'er more shall speak 
Sweet words, nor breathe soft melting 

sighs. 
She sets, a ^ar of beauty bright 
in death's deep sea of endless night. 



KING DEATH 

Tm King-Death, yes I'm King Death 
You know my dreaded form. 
Rapid and dark, my speder barque, 
That sweeps before the ^orm; 
Weirdly bright thru* Satonic night, 
Hideous eye balls glare; 
Fiercely the spires, of volcanic fires 
Stream on the sulphurious air. 
From the womb of the waters, 
Athir^ for slaughters 
i arose that thir^ to sate; 
Green isles are graves in the wa^e of 

waves 
When / wish them desolate. 
Do 1 not pass, the man the mass, 
And their very life-blood spill ? 
O'er burning sands and fro^y lands 
I ghde to slay and kill. 
Hark, to the beat of my cloven feel 
And you, who ride the sea, 
Where are your dreams that the ocean 
Areams 
Would bs safely unto thee ? 



153 



IMMORTALITY 

Bury me mid solemn hills ; 
Far from the homes of men away, 
Where wailing winds and lute like rills 
Breathe o'er the dead a burial lay. 
No mortal eye mu^ see the spot, 
In winter's wrath or summer's bloom 
Let sleep, forgetting and forgot, 
A tenant of a lonely tomb — 
O'er which, as if they too could grieve 
A shrouo of leaves that Autumns 

weave 
Where nearly every evening sky 
Has her clouds all tipped with fire, 
And the lone-bird wandering by, 
Shall sadly play its woo dland lyre ; 
And there, all the ^ars shall beam 
With softer light and gentler grace 
Than ever they were known to gleam 



154 



IMMORTALITY 

And not a foot shall dare intrude. 
Upon the peaceful solitude. 
An arti^ is but Natures child — 
And is always loved by her ; 
Shall she not, in woodland wild 
Proted her sleeping worshiper ? 
And as the silent years are seen 
To mark the mighty shores of time 
Shall nature not, unwearied lean 

Above such sepulchre sublime ? 
Yet, often times, I think my name 
Shall never gild the role of fame. 
But, when fame ever takes a ^arl 
It penetrates the prison ^one. 
And finds the center of the heart 
That throbs with feelings like its own. 
A kindred thob, -— in reality 
Is all to immortality. 



155 



MONOGAMY 

The chain which links my soul to thine 
i sometimes fear may be less bright 
That sorrow yet may dim the shrine 
On which my soul has ca^ its light 
Whene'er thou art, or seemeA cold 
My bosom saddens with a fear. 
That love so easily controlled, 

May perish when it is moil dear. 
I know not why such thots should come 
To frighten thus my brief repose, 
As humming-birds that cease to roam 
Find shelter in the fragrant rose. 



t56 



MONOGAMY 

And slumbering in its blushing core. 
Content with all the sweetness there, 
Forget the blossoms that before 
Tempted their wings to try the air — 
My spirit bird found her re^. 
And in the shelter of thy love, 
All timidly she builds her ne^ 
Without a thought or wish to rove. 
She leaves it to less happy things, 
To seek all flowers that brave the sun; 
She is content to fold her wings, 
And gather honey but from one. 




157 



THE LAST LOOK 

She wept beside the couch of him 
Who won her bridal vow — 
While death-like ray of ^arlight dim 
Slept palely on his brow : 
I come to thee — in tears I come, 
I who have known thee be^ : 
The con^ant turtle seeks the home 
Where she was wont to rest. 
1 cannot tear my soul away — 
Dear-heart thou wert its Hght / 
Too sad will seem the cheerless day! 
Too long, the dreary night ! 
And who will gaurd againA life's ^orm 
My solitary heart ? 
Ah! me, give back these kisses warm 
We may not — - cannot part. 



153 



The Last Look 

But hi^ ! what freezing thots restrain 
The words I fain would speak, 
As on that icy breast again 
I lay my burning cheek? 
How cold !-— my love, is this the spot 
I've loved all else besides ! — 
Alas ! a pulseless heart is not 
The pillow of thy bride ! 
And yet that lip of softened mould 
Seems such as once was thine / 
No, no ™ 'tis pale, and clammy cold 
And answers not lo mine; 
It breathes no word of soothing tone, 
It has no smile for me; 
And as I look, I feel alone, — 
/ feel alone with thee. 



159 



The Last Look 

The spirit light whose flame divine 
Burns not by human will, 
Hath vanished from its earthly shrine 
And left the temple chill ; 
And shadowy phantoms, from above 
Seem whispering through the air : 
" You look not on the one you love -— 
T/s death who sleepeth there !" 




160 



THE SKY PILOT 

He itood at the altar^ 

(For he had no chair) 

Brass rings on his fingers^ 

And lard on his hair< 

He lolled 'bout the altar 
No watch on his fob 

A pedant sky-pilot , 

As ^raight as a cob. 

He Called at the altar 

In humanity's guise — 

A grin grac*d his features 

And goggles his eyes; 

He posed at the altar 

As shrewd ones have said^ 

Without cents in his pockets 

Or 

161 



ETERNAL SOLITUDE 

Come, pace the moon lit deck with me 
The wind is blowing wild and free 
The ship skims on the ocean's brea^, 
And all around, the foaming cre^ 
Of many a wave is clinging now 
Whose whiteness rivals beauty's brow 
Come out on deck and you shall see 
How weird a night can really be ; 
When deadly fogs ob^rud the sight. 
No moon or ^ars to render light ; 
Come, let me fiil your drowsy ears 
With a sad tale of other years. 

T'was years ago that 1 was thrown 
Upon this wide world all alone ; 
'Till he above all might and right. 



162 



Eternal Solitude 

That guides the earth in spacious flight 
Put forth a friend to lead my youth, 
In ^raight paths of love and truth ! 
He had a maid bsside his hearth, 
That shed such fragrance on his path 
That wild idolatry was poured ; 
E'en as a miser's countless hoard. 
On her, whose heart was all his own, 
And richer than a monarch, s throne! 
See this picture in this case ? 
Here some artiit tried to trace , 
In fadelei>s hues, her peerless face ; 
'Tis like her, but not half so fair — 
The life, — - the soul is wanting there ! 
Come, come, the fog is almo^ here, 
Let,s watch the moon slide in its rear 



(63 



ETERNAL SOLIIUDE 

Now we'll see the sky arrange 
itself into a (earful change. 
To me, the coming ilorm floats 'round 
With a low, sad persuasive sound. 
Oh yes, oh yes, I was to tell 
The time to me that life was hell; 
Well, to us lovers once there came 
To feed love's never dying flame, 
Rich words of deep abiding tru^, 
That always conquer, always mu^ ! 
True unto nature, no disguise 
E'er veiled the language of her eyes. 
How oft upon some lonely rock. 
Whose base receiv'd the billows shock 
In days of yore, through summer hours 
Forsaking all the tranquil bowers, 



164 



ETERNAL Solitude 

We oft reclined — her soft white hand 
Laid lovingly in both of mine ; 
She was one of an angel band, 
And was willing to resign. 

While toiling on a foreign shore, 

For wealth to scatter at her feet, 

Ere at the altar 1 could pour 

The vows that render all complete, 

A Granger's voice bade me return 

If once again I would discern 
The form 1 loved. 

Why linger on a mateless bird? 
With wound scarce hidden by its wing 
With every depth of anguish ilirred — 
A lyre with no unbroken ^ring .' 
I hurried o'er the re^less main , 



165 



ETERNAL Solitude 

With every fool of canvas free. 
And trod my native soil again, 
And mingled mong the throngs of men 
A hopeless child of misery ! 
I knelt beside her dying bad, 
And on her bosom bent my head; 
Twas then she calmly sank in re^ 
E'en as these vyraters die away 

When breezes cease to play ! 
They laid her in a sheltered spot 
A cool, sequestered pleasant grot 
And there a monument is raised 
To the one 1 highly praised. 
I planted willows 'round her bed. 
That now are waving 'bove her head 
And seem to moan with pensive sound 



tee 



ETERNAL Solitude 

O'er slumber which is so profound ; 

Its at this shrine 1 sometimes kneel, 

When there is solitude I ^eal ; 

And ask her gentle soul to plead 

For mine, when in its hour of need. 

Around that grave my feet have trod 

Until my foot-prints mark the sod ! 

And 'tis ever anon that I pray, 

That when my form mu^ know decay 

That in that spot my troubled breait 

Shall find a realm of endless re^, 

My soul, then, will be imbued 
With eternal solitude. 



167 



SERENADE 

Awake ! lady, awake ! that gentle eye, 

The voice of music bids unclose, 

We ^and beneath the lattice high, 

To woo thee from thy soft repose; 

The spell of sleep is not so ^rong 

But wizard words the charm can break 

By the deep powers of mighty song 

We bid the wake -—fair lady, awake ? 

Awake ! lady, awake ! upon the lea 

The ^ars look down serenely bright 

The moon hath fled beyond the sea 

That thou may*^ reign the queen of 
night; 

Arouse ! no cloud is in the skies ! 

No ripple on the tranquil lake ; 

Lift the fair lids which veil those eyes 

Sweet lady, wake !— fair lady, awake! 



16S 



A HEART TO LET 

To be let, 

To be let at a very desirable rate, 

A snug little house in a healthy e^ate 

Tis a bachlors heart the agent is chance 

Aff edtion the rent to be paid in advance 

The owner, as yet, occupies it alone 

The fixtures are somewhat common 
but soon 

*Twill be furnished by Cupid himself. 

If a wife 
Takes a lease for the term of her natu- 
ral life. 
Ladies, dear ladies pray do not forget 

An excellent bachelor's heart is to let. 
The tenant will have a few taxes to pay 



169 



A HEART To LET 

Love, honor, and (heavier item) obey 
As for good -will, the subscriber's 

Inclined 
To have that, if agreeable, setded in 

Kind 
Indeed, if he could, such a matter 

Arrange, 
He*d be highly dehghted to take in 

Exchange, 

Provided true title by prudence be 

Shown, 

Any heart unincumbered, and free as 

Its own 
So ladies dear ladies pray do not forget 

An excellent bachelors heart is to let. 



170 



SATAN AND THE POET 

Ah ! tis Satan, King of Hell ! 
My good Sir you are looking well ; 
if from appearance, one can tell. 
So I don't go to paradise ? 
1 am enlightened by your eyes — - 
What-with the betrayal of your sighs. 
You are made gha^ly by the moon 
That ^ands above in midnight noon. 
Ah ! tell me Sir, are you not here 
To infill mephistophelian fear ? 



171 



Satan And the Poet 

You know that little dreamy flower, 
That bleeding heart that always hung 
So beautifully up in this bower --" 
Today (the wind blew and) it swung 
So impudently in my face, 
So Hke a thing alive you know, 
I tore it from its pride of place 
And tore it into pieces, —- so/ 
No harm done, so the fairies say-— 
What say you Sir? O King of Hell. 
" I've risen from my hellish throne 
To render reverence 
I'm off now, for a wicked clime. 
To give my undivided time. 
Your sin's no consequence, 
'Twould be mockery to call 

Your 'villiany' a crime at all. 

Farewell." 



172 



LAY HER THERE 

Where shall we make her grave > 
Oh ! where the wild flowers wave ; 

In the free air/ 
Where shower and singing bird 
Midit the young leaves are heard — - 

There — lay her there. 
Harsh was the world to her! 
Now may sleep miniver 
Balm for each ill. 
Look on sweet nature's breaA, 
Let the meek heart find re^ 
Deep, deep and ^ill. 



173 



Lay her There 

Murmur glad waters by ! 
Faint gales with happy sigh 

Come wandering o'er 
That green and mossy bed 
Where on a gentle head 
Storms beat no more! 

What though for her in vain 
Falls now the bright soft rain, 

Plays the soft wind? 
Yet ^ill from where she lies 
Should blessed breathings rise. 

Gracious and kind 



174 



Lay Her there . 

Therefore let song and clew 
Thence in the heart renew 

Life's vernal glow ! 
And o'er that holy earth 
Scents of violet's birth 

Still come and go. 

Oh / then where wild flowers wave 
Make ye her mossy grave 

in the air! 
Where shower and singing bird 
Midst the young leaves are heard —- 
There-— lay her there. 



173 




Finem respice 

Farewell ! --- To wisdom consecrate thy days /— 
But ye, who ^rive with eager hands to gain 
Earth's glittering ^ore, and mortal's paltry praise, 
Approach, and on the tombstone read: " Tis vain. " 




REPUBLIQUK rnANCAISE 




PERMIS 



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